Dying From a Broken Heart
by cindy123
Summary: The big fight between John and Sam...can Sam's heart take it?  Fanfic exchange story written for MysteryMadchen at CWESS.  Sick/Sam...Guilty/John...Pissed/Dean.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all! As promised, I have a short story written for the Sam's b-day (turned into Jared's b-day) fanfic exchange over at CWESS (Coalition for the Written Enhancement of Sam's Story). My recipient was MysteryMadchen and her prompt was for a story about John and Sam's fight and then Sam becomes ill or injured as a result of the fight (heart failure or kidney failure if ill) and does not allow his family to be contacted. The story has now been posted at CWESS, so I can post it here as well. It is 8 chapters and I will post a chapter every few days. I had a second prompt to work with and am also writing a story for that, but can't post it until it is finished and posted at the other site.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own them!**

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**Dying From a Broken Heart**

_Ames, Iowa - June 10, 2001_

"Dammit, Dad! Why can't you…just this one time, be proud of me!" Sam screamed as tears of frustration and hurt streamed down his reddened cheeks.

"Proud of what! Proud of you going behind my back? Proud of you wanting to abandon your family?" John spat back, the man shaking as anger coursed through his veins.

Dean watched from the sidelines as the battle raged, his wide, green eyes traveling to his brother's face, the young man waiting with bated breath to hear what the teenager would say. His heart ached at the sadness he heard in Sam's voice when he finally answered.

"Stanford, Dad. I got accepted to Stanford. Most families would find that something to be proud of," the boy said softly.

"You want me to proud of you? Do something that means something! Get off your ass and become a man! Be more like your brother!" John hissed, his dark eyes flashing as he stared into his youngest son's eyes.

"I'm not Dean! I'll never be Dean!" Sam cried desperately.

"Yeah…and therein lies the problem," John said coldly, the man knowing his words cut deep, but too angry and stubborn to take them back.

Sam stared wide eyed, the look on his face nearly breaking John's resolve. After a few moments he slowly shook his head and deflated, all of the fight leaving him. "Mom would have been proud of me," he said softly.

The slap was unexpected, the fury and what Sam could only see as hatred in his father's eyes made it hurt much worse than it would have in any other situation. Sam lifted a hand to his cheek, his hazel eyes moving to the stunned face of his brother before trailing back to his father.

"Don't you ever speak of her again," John hissed as he took a step closer to his son. "She would not be proud. She would be disgusted. She would be ashamed."

Sam visibly recoiled at his father's words. The idea that his mother would be ashamed of him tore through his heart and took his breath away. He absently lifted his hand and nursed his chest as he stared brokenly at his father. If there was any love for him at all, John didn't show it and Sam broke a little bit more when he wondered if he'd ever been loved by the man. Maybe when he was little, before he had a mind of his own. Before he had dared to want something more than just the hunt. Maybe then John had loved him, but now? Now, Sam wasn't so sure. He hadn't felt loved for a very long time, but had shrugged it off as just his father's way. He had convinced himself that John still loved him, even though they fought constantly, but now it seemed that maybe it wasn't just John's way. Maybe he had lost his father's love when he had found his independence. When he had figured out that you should be able to choose your own path in life.

Sam found himself trying to speak, but the pain in his chest wouldn't allow more than just a gasped exhale of breath. He took a deep breath and tried again, to no avail. Looking once more deep into his father's eyes and seeing only rage, Sam turned to make his way out of the kitchen. He tried to scoot by his father, but the man had other plans. John grabbed Sam and shoved him back, growling in Dean's direction when the young man made a move forward. Sam pushed back and tried to pull his arm free, but John slammed him against the wall, the force of the impact causing Sam's jaw to slam shut, his teeth biting into his tongue and drawing blood.

"Where the hell do you think you're going, boy?" John hissed as he pulled Sam away from the wall only to slam him against it again.

Sam swallowed deeply then stared into his father's eyes. "'m leaving," he replied shakily.

John's eyes narrowed, but a few moments later he roughly let go of Sam and stepped aside as the boy staggered forward. Sam hurried past his father, then his brother and disappeared down the hall where the room he shared with his brother was. Dean turned to follow his brother, but John grasped his arm and held him back. "Dad…" Dean started.

"Let him be, Dean," John said gruffly, his voice suddenly sounding tired and defeated.

"But, Dad…he's leaving! We can't…"

"He's bluffing. He's not going anywhere," John interrupted.

"What if he isn't bluffing? What then?" Dean queried, his green eyes trailing to the dark hallway.

"He won't leave, Dean. He won't leave you," John said.

Dean glanced at his father then back down the hallway. "I hope you're right," he said softly.

Sam hurried down the hallway and shoved through the slightly closed door of he and Dean's room then quickly shut the door behind himself. He stumbled to his bed and dropped down heavily onto the mattress before grabbing his chest and doubling over his knees. He took several deep breaths and waited for the pain to subside. Finally, when the pain had turned to a dull ache and he could breathe again, Sam sat up and brushed the back of his hand over his mouth. His hand came away bloodied and he swallowed back the remaining blood that had pooled in his mouth from his tongue. He sat for several minutes before finally feeling strong enough to stand again. He began to stuff his meager belongings into his duffel bag and once it could hold no more, he went to the closet and reached up onto the shelf then pulled a small shoebox down. He opened the box and removed a rolled up bundle of money. He stuffed the roll into his jacket pocket and zipped it up then grabbed his duffel and swung it over his shoulder and headed for the door.

Sam came into the small livingroom and glanced toward the kitchen. He heard his father's deep voice and swallowed against the emotions that were flowing through him. He took a step toward the kitchen then thought better of it. Maybe it would be better if he just left. He started toward the front door, but stopped when a low voice called out to him.

"Sam…stop."

Sam turned and bit back at the tears that threatened to once again fall. Dean stared back at him, his green eyes pleading with his brother not to go. Dean took a step forward, but was halted when John appeared and grabbed his arm. John moved toward Sam, his face unreadable as he considered his youngest son. He glanced to his right when Dean moved up beside him then turned his attention back to Sam.

"Where do you think you're going?" John queried evenly, no emotion in his voice.

Sam glanced down at the ground before looking back up at his father. "To Stanford, Dad," he said softly in reply.

"You're not going anywhere, boy," John said as he took another step forward.

"Stop…just, please…stop," Sam pleaded as he held his hand out in front of him. "You don't need me, Dad. You never have. I've just been this…this burden you've had to drag around."

"We need you, Sam. We need to stick together…as a family," John said, his voice softening slightly.

"It's only college. I can hunt during breaks and in the Summer…"

"No, Sam! We don't just need you when it's convenient for you! You're not going!" John shouted, his anger returning full force.

Sam gazed sadly at his father and shook his head. "I'm going to college, Dad. I'd hoped you'd be happy for me…be proud of me, but I guess that was just too much to ask for," he said softly as he turned toward the door.

"If you walk out that door, Sam…don't you ever come back," John hissed bringing a gasp from his eldest son beside him.

Sam stopped suddenly and turned to face his father. "Wh-what?" he whispered, the stunned look on his face nearly breaking his father.

John swallowed back the apology he wanted to say and hardened his eyes. "You heard me," he said coldly. "If you leave, you can consider yourself an orphan. Me and Dean will be dead as far as you're concerned…and you will be dead to us."

Sam's mouth dropped opened in shock as he stared at his father. He cast his gaze to his brother and waited for him to speak up, to say something to let him know that it wasn't true. Dean opened his mouth, but the young man glanced his father's way and snapped his mouth shut. Sam's eyes filled with tears, but he held them back as he slowly nodded. He gave his brother one last pleading look then turned toward the door when Dean dropped his eyes to the floor. He opened the door and stepped out onto the porch then stopped as he considered going back in, thus leaving Stanford behind. The look of near hatred he'd seen on his father's face and his brother's silence though made him softly close the door behind him and trudge heavily down the steps and to the sidewalk. He glanced once over his shoulder, the boy hoping to see his brother running down the sidewalk after him, but the night was still and the sidewalk empty, save for him. He swallowed back the hurt and disappointment and hurried away, hoping he could catch a bus and get as far away from this town as possible.

Dean's heart dropped into his stomach as he watched Sam close the door behind him. He turned to his father, his eyes wide with hurt and shock. John glanced at him before turning his dark eyes back to the door as if expecting it to open at any moment. Dean moved toward the door, the young man grabbing his jacket from the back of the sofa as he passed. He reached for the doorknob, but stopped when his father's voice sounded from behind him.

"Dean…stop."

Dean turned and glared at his father, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "I have to go after him, Dad! You said he wouldn't leave! You said…"

"Yeah? Well, I guess I was wrong. I guess your brother is truly the selfish son of a bitch that I'd hoped he wasn't. He made his decision…"

"That's crap! You didn't really give him much of a choice now did you!" Dean cried. He let go of the doorknob and stepped away from the door. "Would it have killed you to tell him you were proud of him? Hell…I am! But I didn't tell him either, so I guess that makes me just as bad as you!"

"Watch your mouth, Dean! Sam chose school over us! He's never been with the program…he's never thought what we do is important!" John shouted.

"You're wrong! He does think what we do is important. He just thinks there's more than just hunting, Dad. He's not like us…he…"

"You're right. He isn't like us."

"I'm going after him," Dean interrupted as he turned to the door again.

"No…you're not. If he wants to turn his back on us then let him. We'll find your mother's killer ourselves and he can have the perfect little life he's always dreamed of!" John snapped angrily.

Dean stopped and turned around. "You're serious? You meant what you said to him? That he's dead to you? To us?"

John sighed and dropped his shoulders. "No…of course not. I didn't think he'd go. But he did…even after what I said. That proves that he doesn't care about us, Dean," he said sadly.

"No, Dad. It means he's hurt and stubborn. He'd die for us and you know it. He just…this life…I think it's slowly killing him and he had to get away and now...now he thinks he can't come back," Dean replied.

John watched his son and he knew he was right. He knew Sam loved them and would die for them, but Sam had chosen to leave them behind. He'd chosen to abandon them and to John, that was unforgivable. John hardened his eyes and regarded his son coolly. "What's done is done. Sam made his decision and now we have to move on. There're more important things to worry about than…"

"More important than Sam? You can't believe that, Dad," Dean shot angrily.

"I'm finished with this conversation, Dean. We're leaving early so you better go get some sleep," John said as he turned his back on his son.

Dean stared after his father and shook his head. "I can't believe you. He's your son," he said softly.

John turned and eyed his son wearily. "Not anymore, Dean. Not anymore," he replied before turning and leaving Dean to stare after him in stunned silence.

Sam angrily brushed the tears from his cheeks as he approached the nearly deserted bus station. He had expected to hear the rumble of the Impala sometime during his two mile trek, but now he realized he was truly on his own. What John had said was true. He was dead to his family and very likely would never see them again. It hadn't completely surprised him about his father, but Dean? He would never have thought that his brother would just let him go like that without a word. It hurt him to know that his father could so easily wash his hands of him, but it nearly broke him completely to know that Dean could.

As he neared the entrance to the bus station, Sam had to sit down to ease the pressure and pain in his chest. It was becoming hard to breathe again and he could only guess that it was from the stress of the fight and everything else crushing down upon him. He sat on the cold bench that was perched next to the door for several minutes and took a few deep breaths until the pain eased. He stood and hoisted his duffel up over his shoulder then entered the bus station. He purchased his bus ticket then made his way to the area where his bus would be departing and took a seat. He had been sitting for nearly a half hour when he heard the deep rumble of a vehicle pull up near the building. He jerked his head up and stared expectantly out the window, but soon deflated when he saw a bright red Firebird pull past the window and zoom out of the parking lot. He dropped his eyes to his lap and reached up to brush a tear from his cheek.

Sam jerked when a loud voice sounded from the PA system announcing the loading instructions for his bus. He stood stiffly, not having been aware that he had drifted off to sleep. He stretched his arms over his head then leant over to pick up his duffel bag. He got in the short line of people loading onto the bus and found a seat near the back. He stowed his bag under his seat and collapsed down next to the window. He reclined the seat back as far as it would go and rested his head back upon the head rest and closed his eyes. As the bus departed, he opened his eyes and gazed longingly out the window, hoping against all hope to see his brother there, but the departure area was empty. He leaned back again and crossed his arms over his midsection. His right hand came up to absently rub his chest and within minutes, he had fallen into a restless, troubled sleep.

_Lincoln, Nebraska –early morning, June 11, 2001_

Sam awoke with a gasp, his hand immediately reaching for his chest as he struggled to breathe. The nightmare had shaken him horribly, his chest still aching where the black dog had plowed into him before beginning to tear into him with razor sharp claws. He managed to look out the window and see that they had pulled into a town, the name of which he didn't know. He reached under the seat for his duffel bag and hoisted it up onto his shoulder. Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed through his chest causing the teen to cry out. Sam rose shakily to his feet as he became aware that something was terribly wrong. He stumbled a few steps, his body slamming into the back of an empty seat. He gripped the seat and leaned over, trying to catch his breath.

"Are you okay?" a voice sounded and Sam glanced up through sweat soaked bangs to see a woman of about forty gazing worriedly at him.

Sam swallowed, but didn't answer the woman. He staggered forward, bumping into several more seats, causing startled cries to come from the seats passengers. The driver, upon hearing the commotion looked up into his rearview mirror, his eyes narrowing as he saw the young man tripping his way down the aisle.

"Get back to your seat!" the driver called as he eased the bus through traffic.

Sam continued forward, the pain in his chest causing a roar in his ears and drowning out all other sounds around him. He had to get off the bus…that much he knew. He staggered a few more steps before his legs went out from beneath him and he crashed to the dirty floor of the bus, gasping for air. He felt hands upon him and he tried to fight them off, but his strength had left him. Finally, he gave up fighting and just let the hands take him wherever they wished. What did he really have to fight for anyway? He was dead to his family after all. This way, they wouldn't have to pretend.

Sam let the darkness take him without a fight. He didn't hear the frantic calls for someone to call 911. He didn't feel as the bus was pulled to the side of the road, nor when he was lifted and carried from the bus before being gently laid upon the cold ground. He didn't feel as someone began to press desperately upon his chest or when lips closed over his and air began to be forced into his lungs. He didn't hear the distant sirens or the calls of the paramedics as they arrived and began to work to save his life. He didn't see the tears fall down the forty year old woman's cheeks or hear her prayers. He heard nothing and felt nothing because he was already gone.

**Well, that's it for now. Will be back in a few days with the next chapter. Please comment. Thanks.**

**Cindy**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow...I just want to thank everyone for their wonderful comments! I had no idea I'd get such a response from this :)! So happy you all like it. Anyway...on with the story!**

**Cindy**

_Saint Elizabeth Regional Medical Center-ICU _

_Lincoln, Nebraska – June 12, 2001 _

Dr. James Rusho stood over his patient's bed and watched the boy worriedly. Sam Wade. That was what his identification and insurance card had said his name was. Just turned eighteen and seemingly alone. It had been a fight to save him. Exhausting, both physically and emotionally. The paramedics had said he was technically dead when they'd reached him, but the actions of his fellow passengers had kept the blood pumping through him enough for them to shock his heart and get it beating again. He'd been stabilized enough to transport to the hospital and then his life had been placed into the doctor's able hands. He'd awakened once, in the middle of the night, confused, doped up and in pain. When asked who to notify, tears had immediately formed in his eyes and he had whispered there was nobody before he once again succumbed to unconsciousness.

Dr. Rusho had asked for his personal belongings and had found a shut off cell phone in his jacket pocket. He had gone through his contacts, intending to call the first name on the list. _'Bobby'_. But then he had scrolled down further and found _'Dad'_. He had dialed the number, but after several rings it had gone to voice mail. He'd left a message with his personal cell phone number, but no one had called back. At least not yet. There were other names. _'Caleb' _and _'Dean'_..._'Josh' _and _'Pastor Jim'_. The boy had said there was nobody, but there were names in his phone. Surely there was somebody. Surely this boy couldn't be all alone. He'd called Bobby and Caleb, but there were no answers there either so he had come to the uncomfortable conclusion that maybe there really was nobody. An eighteen year old boy with a heart attack and nobody to sit by his side. Nobody to care about him and to worry over him and to make sure he was comfortable and well taken care of.

Dr. Rusho shook his head sadly and took the boy's hand in his own. He'd need surgery to repair the damage done and the defect that had made all of this possible, if he survived long enough that was. Once he was stable enough, he'd be transported to the Nebraska Heart Institute and Hospital. Until then though, he was under the doctor's care and Dr. Rusho would not give up until he found someone who knew this boy. There would be questions to answer. Like why had the boy gone his entire life with a congenital heart defect and never gotten treatment? And where did the large, angry bruise on his back come from? Was he running away from an abusive home or had the bruise happened some other way? Had he been in a fight and was that what had led to his heart attack? So many questions that couldn't be answered until either the boy recovered enough to wake up and talk to him or someone answered their phone.

Dr. Rusho gently replaced the boy's hand next to his side and leaned over the bed slightly. He reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair from the boy's cool forehead and smiled warmly. "I'll find someone, Sam. I know there's someone out there who cares about you and I'm going to find them," he whispered before turning and quietly leaving the room.

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_Gilbert, Iowa – early morning, June 12, 2001_

John pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and looked at the incoming call information on the screen. He frowned when he saw his youngest son's name and waited for the ringing to stop. A few moments later, he saw that a voicemail had been left. He opened his phone and without a second thought, he deleted the message then stuck the phone back into his pocket. He glanced over at the passenger seat of his truck and sighed. Dean hadn't heard the phone ring…a good indication of just how tired the young man was. He was sleeping now, the first time since Sam had left and John wasn't going to disturb him unless he absolutely had to. The hunt had been a bust, just a pack of wild dogs killing pets and not the black dog John had thought it might be. At least they hadn't wasted a lot of time and would be in their beds soon.

John briefly wondered why Sam would be calling and for a moment, worry caused his heart to clench. He quickly forced all thoughts of his youngest son out of his head. He couldn't concern himself with Sam any longer. Sam had made his decision to leave them, now he'd had to live with the ramifications of that decision. John reached back into his pocket and retrieved his phone once again. He switched the phone off then pocketed it again. Maybe Sam would get the message and stop calling. He glanced once more at his sleeping son then turned his attention to the road. He'd get them home and they would sleep, then he would find them another hunt to keep Dean's mind off of his little brother. The sooner the young man got used to the idea that it was only the two of them now, the better off he'd be and what better way than to fill the days with hunts could there be to prove to him that they didn't need Sam.

John kept telling himself they didn't need Sam…kept trying to convince himself that he didn't already miss the boy, but if he were honest with himself, he'd realize that all he wanted to do was to drive straight to California and bring his son home. His heart ached with the need to have his family together again and it had only been a little over a day since Sam had stormed off into the night. God, but he was proud of that boy. He couldn't have told him that of course. Sam had accomplished something that John could never have imagined and he had done it while at the same time training and hunting and doing all of the other things John had demanded of him. Of course, John had missed Sam's graduation. He'd had to be told by Dean that Sam had been Valedictorian of his class. A huge feat considering he'd only been at his school for four months. John had been proud then too, but he hadn't told his son that. Better for the boy to think the only thing that mattered to his father was hunting down all of the evil sons of bitches out there than to fill his head with thoughts that maybe there was something equally important.

John contemplated calling one of his friends to see if Sam had contacted any of them. He couldn't suppress the need to know if his baby was okay and calling one of his fellow hunters would accomplish that without Sam knowing. He pulled his phone out once again, but sighed softly when he remembered that all of those close enough to them were out on hunts and wouldn't be available. He thought of Pastor Jim, but quickly dismissed the idea of calling him. If Sam had contacted the holy man, then John would no doubt get an earful from his friend if he called him. Better to just leave that sleeping dog lie. John replaced the phone in his pocket and continued driving until finally he pulled into Ames. He navigated the city until he reached the small house he and his sons had been living in for the past months. He turned the car off then turned to his still sleeping son. He reached out and gave the young man a gentle shake.

"Dean…we're home," he said, the man smiling when tired green eyes opened and turned his way.

"Wh…?" Dean murmured sleepily as he reached up to rub at his eyes.

"We're home. Let's get into the house and get to bed," John replied.

Dean straightened in his seat then reached for the door handle. He pushed the door opened and climbed stiffly from the car then slammed the door shut. The slam of the other door told him his father was right behind him. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his cell phone then looked at the display. He frowned slightly when he saw that he had no missed calls. He glanced over at John when the man stepped up beside him then the two headed for the house.

"Sammy call while I was sleeping?" Dean asked after a moment, the young man turning expectant eyes his father's way.

"Just like the last ten times you asked me that, Dean…no, he didn't call," John said as he stepped up onto the porch and unlocked the front door.

Dean sighed as he followed his father into the house. He removed his jacket and threw it across the back of the sofa then made his way to the kitchen where his father had disappeared. He sat down at the small kitchen table and watched as John pulled the leftovers from their previous day's supper from the refrigerator.

"Dean…he's fine. He can take care of himself. He made his decision to leave us so it's better if he doesn't call," John said as he placed the dish of leftovers in the old microwave.

"I'm worried about him, Dad. Aren't you? Or did you really mean what you said?" Dean asked, his voice tinged with sudden anger at his father's indifference.

John sighed and turned to face his son. He scrubbed his hand over his face and leaned against the counter. "Sam's my son and he'll always be my son, but he turned his back on us. You may be able to easily forgive him for that, but I can't," he said.

"So, you're not worried at all about him? You're not concerned that he's out there all on his own for the first time in his entire life?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Dean…"

"No, Dad! Look…I get that you're mad at him…hurt even, but what about him? Do you think he isn't hurt? You told him he was dead to us…to US! You made that distinction for me and didn't even ask me how I felt! He's my brother…your son and you couldn't care less that he's out there…vulnerable to who knows what or whom!" Dean cried as he pushed to his feet and paced the kitchen floor.

John ignored the signal from the microwave that their meal was ready and watched his son pace in agitation. "I am worried about him, Dean…okay? I'm worried, but what am I supposed to do? If he cared about us, he would call," he said in exasperated reply.

"You told him if he left, he didn't have a family anymore! Why the hell would he call!" Dean shouted as he turned on his father.

"He'd call you. Has he yet?" John asked, the man crossing his arms across his chest.

"No…he hasn't, but…"

"But what? How much could he possibly care if he won't even call you?" John interrupted.

"I didn't say anything, Dad," Dean said softly, his green eyes shining with unshed tears. "My silence told him that I agreed with you. He thinks that I feel the same way you do. He thinks that I hate him, just like he thinks you hate him."

Dean turned his back on his shocked father and brushed the tears from his cheeks. He didn't turn around when John began to speak.

"Dean, I…I don't hate Sammy. You know that…right?"

"Yeah…but Sam doesn't," Dean replied softly, his green eyes moving up to stare out the small window into the dark back yard.

Dean flinched when he felt a hand grip his shoulder. He turned around and faced his father, his green eyes red and filled with sadness.

"Sam thinks I hate him?" John asked warily, his dark eyes staring into Dean's.

"Yeah…he does. And now he thinks I do too," Dean answered softly.

"Why would he think that? I mean…yeah…I've been hard on him lately, but…"

"You've barely acknowledged his birthday for like…five years now? You haven't made a huge deal out of mine either, but you've at least acknowledged it and…and you gave me the Impala on my eighteenth. You grounded Sam on his 'cause he wanted to hang out with his friends," Dean said coolly.

"Dean…I…"

"You didn't go to his graduation, Dad. You said you were too busy researching, but when I graduated, you got Caleb and Josh to do a hunt we'd been working on so you could go to mine…and I sucked in school! I didn't even care, but Sammy…he cared. He made Valedictorian for f***s sake and you weren't even there to hear his speech!"

"I would've been, but there wasn't anyone available to take the hunt, Dean and you know it! I couldn't just abandon the hunt…not when people were in danger," John defended gruffly.

"It wasn't in the right time of the lunar cycle, Dad. People weren't in immediate danger. You could have given him one freakin' day!"

John dropped his eyes and brushed a hand through his hair. "You're right," he acknowledged as he lifted his head again. "I could have, but that's in the past and I can't change it. I wish I could, but I can't."

"You could call him. You could tell him that you didn't mean what you said," Dean said hopefully, his eyes following John as he moved back toward the microwave.

John slowly turned around and faced his son. Finally, he shook his head and watched as Dean deflated. "No, I can't. No matter what…he still abandoned us, Dean. He abandoned your mother and I can't forgive him for that," he said as he turned and left the room.

Dean stared after his father in stunned denial. He couldn't believe that the man could just dismiss his son like that. Yes, Sam had left them and it hurt Dean more than he would ever let on, but was that good enough reason to cut him out of their lives? John had said that Sam abandoned them, but hadn't he done the same to Sam? Every time he had belittled the youngest Winchester for something that was important to him, wasn't that emotional abandonment? Ever since Sam had become old enough to train and hunt, everything else was deemed frivolous and unimportant, but had Sam ever thrown up his hands and said he was done with his family? No…he'd endured the cruel remarks and lack of praise and tried all that much harder to gain his father's approval…all to no avail. It wasn't until he was given an ultimatum that he'd finally decided enough was enough.

Dean slammed his fist down hard on the formica table top then reached into his pocket. He pulled out his cell phone, his green eyes moving to the kitchen doorway before dropping to the display on the phone. He scrolled down his list of contacts until he came to Sam's name. His finger hovered over the send button for a few seconds, the young man suddenly very afraid to make the call.

"Screw it!" Dean hissed as he pressed the button and listened as the phone at the other end began to ring.

After several rings, the call went to voicemail, the sound of his younger brother's voice making Dean's heart ache with need. Maybe Sam was asleep, or maybe he didn't want to speak to the brother that had just let him go without a word. Dean flipped his phone shut and shoved it back into his pocket. He stood in the middle of the kitchen for several minutes unable to move as grief for his broken family washed over him. Finally, he stepped toward the doorway and headed down the hallway toward the room he used to share with his brother. He entered the room and softly closed the door behind him, completely unaware of the sad, dark eyes that watched him from the slightly ajar door across the hall.

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Sam lay, pale and still in the glowing moonlight that filtered into his ICU room, the heart monitor beeping along with the unsteady, irregular blips of his heartbeat. His mouth and nose were covered by an oxygen mask, his body inundated with various wires and tubes designed to monitor and provide medicine and nutrients. A low, sharp trill suddenly filled the room, but it fell on deaf ears. Sam was alone in the small room and unaware that someone was desperately trying to reach him. The sound stopped and the beep of the heart monitor once again became the only noise in the room and the boy slept on in medicated slumber, assured in his drifting, dreaming mind that he was truly alone.

**That's it for now. Please let me know what you think and I will try to respond to your reviews. Thanks everyone for reading.**

**Cindy**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, you guys are great! I'm blown away again! I'm sorry I don't have time to reply to your reviews...things are just a bit crazy right now. I will...at some point...I promise! I'll just let you get to the chapter now. Thanks so much.**

**Cindy**

**Warning: TISSUE ALERT!**

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_Saint Elizabeth Regional Medical Center – June 15, 2001_

"Hal, we have to get going on the kid's surgery," Dr. Clayton Davis said from where he stood on the opposite side of Sam's hospital bed. Dr. Davis was one of the cardiac surgeons at Nebraska Heart Institute and Hospital and would be the one operating on the young patient he stood over.

Dr. Rusho glanced up from the sleeping boy and sighed. "I know…I just…I really hoped to find somebody by now. The kid has to have family who cares about him…who'd want to be here for him," the doctor said, his voice tinged with resignation.

Dr. Davis nodded and looked back down at his new patient. "Look…I understand, but he needs this surgery as soon as possible. He's eighteen so we don't need a family's consent. We just can't wait any longer. Not if we want him to have a decent outcome," he replied, sympathizing with his friend's feelings, but knowing they were running out of time.

Dr. Rusho bit at his lower lip and checked the patient chart he held in his hands for the fifth time in twenty minutes. He looked up and nodded. "Yeah…you're right. I'll get the paper work going and get the transport set up. The kid's getting weaker and if we have to perform the surgery without his family, then so be it," he said almost angrily.

"Okay…I'll get things set up from my end," Dr. Davis said. "And, Hal? Don't hesitate in popping over whenever you want to. He's your patient too and if it weren't for you, we wouldn't even be doing the surgery. We'd be trying to find his family to notify them of his passing."

Dr. Rusho smiled slightly at that and nodded. He watched as Dr. Davis quietly made his way out of the room then turned back to his patient. He reached forward and brushed a stray strand of hair from Sam's eyes before looking up to check the monitors that surrounded the bed. He shook his head then glanced down at the boy once more.

"We can't wait any longer, Sam. I promise though that I'm going to find someone. I won't give up on that. Dr. Davis will take good care of you in the meantime," he said softly before he turned away and left the room.

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_Nebraska Heart Institute and Hospital - June 15, 2001- early evening_

Dr. Davis pushed through the curtain that separated Sam from the other patients waiting for surgery and quickly stepped up to the boy's bed. "How are his stats?" he asked the nurse who was busy prepping the young man for surgery.

"Uh…as good as could be expected under the circumstances, doctor," the nurse replied as she handed the doctor a printout of Sam's latest readings.

"Thanks, Amanda," Dr. Davis said as he took the printout and glanced over it. "I've got him set up for surgery in an hour. Make sure he's ready and call Dr. Rusho over at Saint Elizabeth's to let him know."

Nurse Amanda nodded then went back to preparing Sam for surgery. Her heart went out to the handsome young man who had just been brought in a few hours ago. He was so young. Way too young to be in this kind of condition. From what she'd heard, the doctor who had first treated him had not been able to track down any family as of yet and it broke her heart to think the young man was all alone. It made her think about her own son and she couldn't fathom why his family would not answer or return any of the calls Dr. Rusho had apparently made. She glanced up as Dr. Davis turned and walked away then she returned her attention to her patient. She reached down and grasped his cool hand and smiled warmly.

"I'm going to take good care of you, Sam, so don't you worry about a thing," she said softly. "I'll be your family while you're here."

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"Dammit!" Dr. Rusho spat as he slammed the receiver of his office phone back into its cradle and leaned back in his chair.

The doctor had been trying since the morning to reach anyone in Sam's phone list to no avail. Nobody answered, nobody returned any of his messages. He didn't know who all the names belonged to so he couldn't be sure how close they were to his patient, but there was the one labeled _'Dad'_ that had him perplexed. If it truly was his father, why wouldn't the man call? He'd fully explained the situation, in all its urgent detail and yet, still no call. Dr. Rusho looked up at the clock and groaned to himself. It was nearly eight in the evening…about the time young Sam Wade would be entering the operating room. He wanted to go home, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. He had to find someone. It had become almost an obsession with the white haired doctor and he'd be damned if he gave up now. That boy would wake up to somebody besides strangers and that was all there was too it! Dr. Rusho picked up his phone receiver once again and glanced at the list he had made from Sam's phone. He punched in a number and waited for the ring, never expecting the call to be answered, so when it was, he nearly dropped the phone to his desk in surprise.

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Bobby Singer swore as he exited his beat up truck. He was covered in mud and blood and a number of other things he really didn't want to think about. The hunt had not gone according to plan and had taken several more days than he had expected. Another thing he hadn't expected was the demon clown exploding as he exorcised it. He glanced down the front of his body and groaned as he pulled yet another curly red clump of evil clown hair from his jacket and flicked it to the ground.

"I'm getting too old for this shit," he muttered as he trudged to the steps that led up to his front porch.

Bobby was half way up the steps when he heard the phone inside begin to ring. His first instinct was to just let it ring. He was filthy, hungry and tired and certainly didn't need to be bothered by anybody at the moment, but something niggled deep inside and instead of ignoring it, he picked up his speed and hurriedly unlocked the front door. He rushed to the phone in his den and pulled the receiver up to his ear.

"Singer!" he barked as he glanced around the room, a habit he had when returning to his house after being gone for any length of time.

"_Uh…Bobby?" _the voice on the other end said hesitantly.

"Yeah…this is Bobby Singer. What d'ya want?" Bobby responded impatiently, suddenly wishing he'd left the phone to ring.

"_My name is Dr. Hal Rusho. Do you know a young man by the name of Sam Wade?" _the voice asked and Bobby had to rack his brain for a moment, trying to remember if the name sounded familiar.

Suddenly, Bobby's eyes widened and his stomach clenched. Wade was the name John and his boys were going by at the moment. Why was a doctor calling him about Sam? Had something happened to the boy? If so, why wasn't John calling him? Had something happened to all of them?

"_Mr. Singer? Are you still there?" _the voice queried, startling Bobby out of his musings.

"Oh…uh, yeah…I'm here. And yes…I know Sam. I'm his uncle. What's going on?" Bobby asked, fearing the answer he would hear.

The doctor went into a detailed explanation of how Sam had collapsed on the bus and been brought to the hospital and put under his care. Bobby's face paled and he found himself searching for a chair to sit on as his legs suddenly became weak. Finding no chair within easy reach, he turned and sat on the edge of the messy desk and listened as the doctor continued to talk. Finally, the doctor finished and all Bobby could do was sit and let what he'd been told sink in. He brushed a shaky hand over his face and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart.

"_Mr. Singer? Can you come?" _

Bobby jumped, the doctor's voice startling him for the second time since the phone call had begun. "Yeah…I'll be there. You haven't been able to reach his dad or brother?" Bobby answered, the hunter's voice filled with confusion.

"_No. I've tried several times to contact whom I can only guess is his father, but there was no answer. I left several messages, but haven't heard back. I also called his other contacts, but don't know if his brother was one of them."_

"Dean. His brother's name is Dean," Bobby said, a hint of anger seeping into his voice.

"_Then yes…I called Dean also. I left one message and two calls were ignored."_

"Son of a bitch!" Bobby hissed under his breath.

"_What was that?"_

"Uh…nothing. Look, I'll get the info from you then I'll call his dad. There has to be an explanation why they aren't calling you back," Bobby said.

"_Sam woke for a short time after he first was admitted. I asked if there was anybody I should call. He said there was nobody and he had this terrible bruise on his back. Is it possible…"_

"No! No way! If you're insinuating that his daddy or brother hurt him…no way. They would never hurt that boy," Bobby ground out, the very idea angering him even more.

"_You have to understand, Mr. Singer…I have to ask. His condition has been neglected his entire life and…"_

"What do you mean…his condition?" Bobby asked warily.

"_His congenital heart defect. He has what is referred to as a VSD."_

"A VSD? What the hell is that?" Bobby demanded.

"_It stands for ventricular septal defect. It's a hole in the septum between the two lower chambers of the heart. Because Sam's VSD has never been treated, and never closed on its own, his heart has been weakened over the years. He must have endured something quite stressful to bring on a heart attack."_

"John never mentioned any problem with Sam's heart. I'm sure he didn't know about it," Bobby said in defense of his friend.

"_A doctor should have been able to pick up on it at any one of Sam's early check-ups. There would have been a heart murmur. It may not have presented itself for several months, but certainly it would have been obvious before he turned one."_

Bobby squeezed his eyes closed at the doctor's explanation. He wondered if John had ever taken young Sam for a regular check-up after Mary had died. Probably not was the answer that hit him in the chest like a sledgehammer. "Uh…I don't know. I just know that if Sam had a heart problem and John knew about it, he would have had it taken care of," Bobby said, though he was not quite so sure at the moment that what he said was true.

"_Well…I would hope so. Look, I need to get over to the hospital where Sam has been transferred. His surgery should be underway now and I want to be there to monitor his progress. I'd appreciate it if you could get through to his family and have them come see me at Saint Elizabeth. I'll explain everything to them, and you, in complete detail then we can go see him together."_

"Shouldn't we just go straight to the hospital where Sam is?" Bobby asked.

"_I'd like to talk to Sam's father first. Besides, once Sam is done with surgery, it'll be at least three hours before he'll be allowed any visitors. Just come to Saint Elizabeth and ask for me. You will all be able to see Sam as soon as he is cleared for visitors."_

"Yeah…okay. I'll call Johnny right away and have him meet me there. Thanks for taking care of Sam…for saving him, Dr. Rusho," Bobby said.

"_You're welcome, Mr. Singer. Your nephew is quite the strong young man. He did most of the work."_

"Yeah…he is. Stronger than he gets credit for sometimes. Uh…I guess I'll let you go so I can call his daddy. Thanks again, doc," Bobby said before hanging up the phone.

Bobby sat motionless on the edge of his desk for several minutes, mulling the conversation over in his head. Sam has had a hole in his heart since birth and nobody ever caught it. That just didn't make sense. All of the times the kid had been injured and in the hospital and nobody said a thing about a heart murmur or VSD or anything? No way. Not if what the doctor said was true. Someone would have caught it and John would have been notified. But, if that were true then it would mean that John had ignored what he'd been told and that…well that was exactly what Dr. Rusho had called it. Neglect…plain and simple. Bobby slammed his fist down onto the desk top and angrily picked up the phone. He punched in a number and listened as the ringing started. His eyes narrowed as the call was answered and a gruff, tired voice sounded from the other end of the line.

"You stupid son of a bitch! What the hell did you do!" Bobby hollered, his pulse quickening as anger filled him at the injustice that had been done to the sweet, inquisitive boy he'd come to call family.

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John tucked his phone into his pocket and turned to face his eldest son. "We gotta go, Dean," he said, his face conveying the shock he felt at what he'd just learned.

"Go where? What was that all about?" Dean queried as he watched his father closely.

"Lincoln Nebraska," John answered then turned away and began to stuff his belongings into his duffel bag.

"Nebraska? Why…is there a hunt there?" Dean asked as he too began to pack his bag.

"N-no…it's…it's…" John stammered, his voice trembling almost as much as his hands.

"It's what, Dad? What the hell is going on?" Dean asked warily.

"It's Sammy," John answered weakly.

Dean stopped stuffing his pack and rushed around his father, his stomach suddenly in knots at hearing his brother's name spoken with such muted fear. "What about Sammy, Dad?" he asked, terrified of the answer he would hear.

John slowly straightened and looked into his son's eyes. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to tell Dean how he had failed Sam. He didn't want to see the fear and accusation in Dean's eyes. All those phone calls and he had ignored them…had deleted all of the voice messages without ever listening to them. The messages that were undoubtedly telling him about his possibly dying baby boy. He licked his lips nervously and continued to stare helplessly at his eldest son. Dean reached out and grabbed his arm, none too gently, and gave him a quick shake.

"Dad! What about Sammy?" he cried, his heart suddenly filled with dread.

"He…he's sick. He collapsed. It's his heart," John finally replied softly.

"What! What do you mean?" Dean queried breathlessly as all the air was sucked from his lungs.

"He…," John tried, but the shock of it all literally left him speechless.

"Dad," Dean coaxed, the young man softening his tone slightly, hoping to get a better response.

John dropped his eyes to the floor and let out a ragged breath. "Oh god, Dean. Sammy…Sammy had a heart attack," he whispered brokenly.

Dean let go of John's arm like it was on fire and collapsed down onto the ragged sofa, his green eyes wide as they stared in shock up at his father's distraught face. "N-no…that can't be right," he cried softly as he brushed his hand through his spiked hair. "They're wrong, Dad…they have to be. Not Sammy…not my Sammy."

John knelt down in front of his son and gently pulled him into his arms. He lost the battle he'd been fighting to keep his tears at bay and let the warm, salty fluid trickle down his cheeks as his boy began to sob in his arms. "I'm so sorry, Dean. So very, very sorry," he whispered as he began to rock his son gently back and forth.

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**Well, now they know. Was I right about the tissues? I hope you enjoyed that chapter and will let me know. Thanks so much**

**Just a quick note as to where I came up with Sam's condition. I was actually born with a VSD...a hole in my heart. While its not as serious as Sam's, I do have to take antibiotics when I have dental work or any minor procedures done so as not to get an infection in my heart. Anyway, that's where the idea came from.**

**Cindy**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, its update time. Once again, I'm overwhelmed by the response to this story...I never imagined I'd gain so many new readers. Thank you all so much. I'm just going to let you know that I'm not sure if I'll be able to post the next chapter on time as promised. My grandma is in the hospital and will be having surgery this afternoon to remove a damaged section of her intestines. She'll be in ICU afterwards and due to her age (92) the risks are high for complications. I spent the night with her last night in her room and just don't know what the next few days will be like. I will post as soon as I can...with an update on her condition. With that being said...read on.**

**Cindy**

_Somewhere between Ames, Iowa and Lincoln, Nebraska – late night June 15, 2001_

John glanced worriedly over the bench seat of the Impala at his silent son and bit back the comment he wanted to make. He wanted to tell Dean that everything would be okay, that Sam would be fine and they'd be a family again, but he wasn't certain that would be the case. From what Bobby had told him, Sam was in very serious shape and there was no guarantee that he would survive the surgery he required. He'd had a heart attack. John's vibrant baby boy was now fighting for his life and it was all John's fault. If he'd taken Sam in for his regular checkups when the boy was just a baby, they would have found the hole in his heart and it could have been fixed long before it ever became a problem. If he'd listened years later to a certain doctor instead of loading his children up in a panic and leaving their current home, Sam would be fine now. John's single minded quest to find his Mary's killer had contributed to the condition his son was in now and John didn't think he'd ever be able to forgive himself if Sam didn't pull through.

Guilt ate away at John's insides. He shuddered when he thought about the last words he had spoken to his youngest. He'd told him that if he walked out the door he was dead to him and now those very words were possibly coming true. Could he have somehow caused this to happen with his thoughtless, cruel words? Could he have cursed his boy? John shook his head and swallowed against the lump that had formed in his throat. Of course he had caused Sam's illness. He'd neglected his health as a baby, had dragged the boy all over the country, putting him in harms' way without a second thought. He'd ran his son into the ground over and over and over and still had expected more. Way more than the boy should have ever had to give. He huffed with self disgust and glanced once again at his eldest son. Dean was looking out the side window, lost in his own thoughts and as much as John didn't want to, he knew he had a few things to confess to the young man.

"Uh…Dean?" he said, almost fearfully, and waited until Dean turned tired, red eyes his way.

"Yeah?" Dean replied coolly.

John licked his lower lip, his stomach in knots. He turned to look out the windshield before continuing. "I…uh…I have something to tell you," he said softly.

Dean turned slightly in his seat, not liking his father's hesitance in the least. He wondered if John knew more about Sam than he had told him. "Wh-what is it? Is Sammy worse than…" he started worriedly.

"No…nothing like that. I…I lied to you and…I want to get it out into the open before we get to Lincoln," John replied.

"So…tell me," Dean said coolly, but with a hint of relief.

John nodded and cast a quick glance at his son before returning his eyes to the dark road ahead of them. "When you asked if Sammy had called…right before we got back to Ames from the hunt for the black dog…I…uh…I…," he said, his eyes glued to the road before him.

"You…Sammy called? What did he say? How did he sound?" Dean cried, his green eyes wide with hurt and anger.

"I didn't answer. I deleted the message…"

"You what! Why would you do that!" Dean shouted as he slammed his fist hard onto the seat beside him.

"I didn't want to talk him. I wanted him to learn a lesson, but I…I don't think it was Sammy calling," John answered tiredly.

"You don't think it was him? Who would it be?" Dean asked as his heart hammered in his chest.

"The timing…it would have been after Sam's heart attack. Someone found his phone and tried to call to let us know, but…but I ignored it. I shut my phone off," John said, his voice filled with misery and remorse.

"Son of a bitch," Dean hissed, his eyes narrowing as he glared heatedly at his father. "We could have been there days ago! You kept me from my brother!"

John glanced over and nodded. "I know…he was alone this whole time. I'm so sorry, Dean," he said.

"Sorry don't cut it, Dad! It's Sammy you should be apologizing to and he may not survive long enough for you to do it! I can't believe you!"

"Uh…there's more," John said, his stomach fluttering nervously.

"Oh, God…there's more? I don't think I can take anymore, Dad," Dean replied softly, all energy and fight leaving him at the tone in his father's voice.

"I have to get this out…before we get to the hospital," John said, the man pausing before continuing on. "They…they tried to call you too. The first few times you were sleeping…the third time you were in the shower…"

"You son of a bitch! What'd you do? Erase my messages too!" Dean screamed, his face turning a bright red as pure rage filled him.

John glanced over and nodded. "Yeah…I did. I'm so…"

"Don't you fucking tell me you're sorry, you bastard! You had no right!"

"Don't talk to me like that, boy…I'm still your father! You don't know how much I regret what I did. I thought I was protecting you," John snapped angrily.

"Yeah…some father, huh? You lie to me because you think you're protecting me? From Sammy?" Dean scoffed.

"From…I don't know…I was still so angry and you were hurting and I didn't think talking to Sam at the time was a good idea," John answered.

"It wasn't your call, Dad. He's my brother…I had a right to decide for myself if I wanted to talk to him. We could have been there for him and you…you…" Dean said softly, unable to finish as he turned away from his father and stared out the window.

"I know. I was wrong and I'll never forgive myself for Sammy having to be alone all this time," John said.

Dean glanced over at his father, his eyes completely cold. "I'll never forgive you either. Never," he said before turning away once again.

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_Saint Elizabeth Regional Medical Center – 12:30 AM June 16, 2001_

John and Dean hurried through the emergency room doors and went immediately to the reception desk across the foyer. They stepped up to the counter and were instantly greeted by the young man on the other side.

"May I help you?" the young man queried tiredly.

"We're here to see Dr. Rusho. He's expecting us," John answered gruffly.

"Your name?" the young man asked.

"John Wade. This is my son, Dean. My other son was brought in several days ago," John replied.

The young man nodded and began to type on his computer keyboard. A few moments later, he looked up. "Yes. Your son, Sam Wade has been transferred to another facility for surgery. Dr. Rusho has been expecting you…"

"He's been transferred? Where?" Dean queried impatiently.

"I'm sorry…Dr. Rusho will fill you in on the details. I'll let him know you're here," the young man answered before picking up his phone and dialing a number. He spoke into the phone then hung up and addressed the two weary men again. "Dr. Rusho will be here as soon as he can be. Please take a seat over in the waiting area and I'll point him to you when he gets here."

John thought about arguing, but decided it would do nobody any good, especially Sam, so he took Dean's arm and led the protesting young man to the bank of seats across the room. The two hunters sat down, Dean making sure to put several seats between himself and his father, and they waited. Twenty minutes later, with Dean having abandoned his uncomfortable chair to pace the floor instead, the doors to the ER slid open and Bobby came rushing inside, the older man immediately spotting them and hurrying in their direction.

"Have you heard anything yet? Is Sam okay?" Bobby questioned breathlessly as he neared.

"We haven't heard a damned thing! We've been waiting forever for this Dr. Rusho asshole…" Dean started, but was stopped as John put his hand on the young man's arm.

"Dean…calm down," John said.

"Calm down? We drive for three frickin' hours only to find out Sammy isn't even at this hospital and we can't find out where the fuck he is until this dickhead decides to come talk to us and you want me to calm down! Screw that!" Dean hissed irritably.

"This isn't helping, Dean. Your daddy's just as worried as you are," Bobby said tiredly.

"Oh, yeah…he's worried. He's the reason why Sam is so sick…"

"Dean!" Bobby hissed.

"No, he's right, Bobby," John said before turning to his son. "Dean, I know you're worried sick, but that man you called a dickhead saved your brother's life. Show some respect. I may not deserve it, but he does."

Dean lowered his eyes and nodded. "Yeah…you're right…'m sorry," he whispered.

"No need to be sorry…" John started, but stopped when he caught sight of a medium built man hurrying toward them.

All three hunters turned toward the man as he approached, his hand held out in welcome. "I'm Dr. Rusho. So sorry to keep you waiting…we had a car accident and…well, you don't need to hear about that," the man explained as he shook each man's hand.

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Rusho. I'm John Wade…my son Dean and his uncle, Bobby," John replied.

"Would you all follow me? We'll talk where there's a bit more privacy," the doctor said before turning and leading the way to a small, private waiting room. He motioned for the men to take a seat as he sat in a chair opposite them.

"Where's my brother, doc? The guy out at the desk said he's been transferred?" Dean started immediately, the young man wanting nothing more than to see his brother.

"Yes. Sam's surgery required a more specialized hospital. He's was transferred yesterday afternoon to the Nebraska Heart Institute and Hospital where he underwent surgery to repair the hole in his heart," Dr. Rusho answered.

"Is he okay? How did the surgery go?" Bobby asked.

"I spoke to a representative a few minutes ago. Sam is still in surgery. They got a late start and there's been a few complications…"

"Complications? What complications?" John interrupted fearfully.

Dr. Rusho looked at the terrified faces of the men before him and felt instantly that Sam had been wrong in his assumption that he had nobody. These men cared a great deal about the boy, but there were still questions to be answered. "Nothing serious…actually they were expecting some complications," he answered.

"I want to see my brother. Where is this place so we can get there?" Dean snapped impatiently.

"I need to ask a few questions first. From my understanding, Sam will be another hour or so. You'll get there in plenty of time," Dr. Rusho replied.

John grasped Dean's arm when the young man made to argue then looked at the doctor. "What are your questions," he asked, though he was pretty certain he knew the answer already.

"Well, first off, I'd like to know why Sam's condition was never treated. Any doctor would have heard the heart murmur when examining him. This could have been fixed when he was an infant, or at the least when he was a toddler," the doctor said.

John brushed a hand through is hair and sighed. He glanced over at his son before returning his attention back to the doctor. "When Sam was six months old, his mother was killed in a house fire. Up until then, he'd had regular checkups, but nobody said anything about a heart murmur. After…I was just…lost. I guess, because he always seemed so healthy, it didn't occur to me that he needed to go to the doctor unless he was sick. Mary always took care of all that, so I never thought about it," he answered with shame.

Dr. Rusho smiled sadly and nodded. "I'm sorry about your wife and I guess I can understand that you'd be a bit distracted, but Sam had to have been to the doctor at some point between his six month birthday and now," he said.

"Yeah…he has, but nobody said anything," John replied.

Dr. Rusho pursed his lips at John's answer, but decided to move on. "Okay, so his murmur was somehow missed. What about the large bruise on his back?" he questioned critically.

John physically flinched at that. "What?" he asked with confusion. "What bruise?"

"When Sam was brought in, he had a large bruise on the upper part of his back. He'd have to been hit pretty hard to get such a bruise," the doctor answered. "Mr. Wade, I have to ask…did you hurt your son?"

"Wh…no! I'd never hurt Sammy! Never!" John cried. He glanced over at Dean and cringed at the look on the young man's face. Dean knew, just as he did, where that bruise had come from, but he also knew that if the doctor found out they'd be denied access to Sam so both men kept their mouths shut.

Dr. Rusho nodded then turned his attention to Dean. "What about you young man? Did you hurt your brother?" he asked softly, yet firmly.

"I'd rather cut my own arm off than hurt my brother. I'd say some asshole hurt him," Dean hissed as he stared the doctor down.

Dr. Rusho drew back slightly, alarmed and somewhat afraid of the intensity of the young man before him. He regarded him for a few minutes, but for some reason he came to the conclusion that everything the brother had told him was true. He believed that this young man would defend his brother to his own detriment if need be. He finally nodded and leaned back in his chair.

"Well…I guess I'll leave it up to you what you wish to do about Sam's injury. I'm going over to the hospital where Sam is to check on his condition before I head home. Why don' t you all follow me and hopefully you'll be able to see him soon," the doctor said as he rose from his chair.

The others rose too and followed the doctor out of the private waiting room. They waited in the foyer for the man to retrieve his belongings from his office then made their way out of Saint Elizabeth's and to their vehicles. As the Winchesters pulled out of the parking lot behind Dr. Rusho, Bobby following close behind them in his Chevelle, Dean turned to John and narrowed his green eyes. John, sensing his son's scrutiny turned his head slightly and eyed the young man warily.

"When Sam recovers and he's back with us…if you ever so much as breathe too hard on him, I'll take him away and you'll never see either of us ever again," he said tersely, his tone leaving no doubt that John should believe every single word.

**Uh oh, John...Dean's a little mad at you. I thought about having Bobby go off on John too, but then decided I'd leave it all up to Dean to cut his father down to size. I hope you aren't disappointed by that. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. We'll be back to Sammy soon...I know you're all anxious to find out about his condition. Take care.**

**Cindy **


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay folks, here's the next update. Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews and kind encouragement for my grandma. She's not doing as well as we had hoped, but we are still praying for her to pull through. I've got a quick minute at work so I thought I better post the chapter before I head up to the hospital. I hope you enjoy.**

**Cindy**

_Nebraska Heart Institute and Hospital - June 16, 2001- early morning_

John sat uncomfortably in the chair he had chosen, though the seat was not the reason for his discomfort. He glanced to the other side of the room to where his eldest son paced, and sighed. What Dean had told him had hit him hard, but as angry as it had made him, he knew he deserved every word. He could understand why Dean was so upset with him, but it wasn't as if hurting Sam was a daily occurrence. This incident marked the first time John had physically hurt his youngest son, and he had never intended for that to happen to begin with. He was just so angry at the time and when Sam had turned his back on him, all constraint instantly left him. He shuddered when he thought about the look on his youngest son's face. The hurt…the anger…the fear, all reflected in those expressive eyes of his. The fear was the worst by far. He hated seeing fear on his son's faces and knowing that he was the one to put it there made it a hundred times more painful to him.

John glanced Dean's way again and found angry, tired eyes peering back at him. Once their eyes met, Dean turned away and began his pacing again. John sighed and dropped his chin to his chest. The sound of his friend's hushed voice beside him drew his attention away from his musings and he turned his head to looked wearily at Bobby.

"Johnny…everything's gonna be okay. Sam's a tough cookie, he'll pull through and Dean…he's just worried is all," Bobby said as he gazed at the exhausted looking man beside him.

"Dean hates me, Bobby and…well, I can't say that I blame him, but…I didn't mean to hurt Sammy," John said brokenly in response.

"First of all, Dean doesn't hate ya, ya idjit! He's pissed…royally so, but he's more scared than anything. He knows you didn't mean to hurt the kid. Just give him time. You'll see…once Sam is recovering, Dean'll be just fine," Bobby said.

"I hope so, Bobby. I don't want to lose both of my boys. I…"

"You ain't losing either one of 'em, Johnny. Sam's gonna be just fine…"

"Even if he is, he's not going to want to have anything to do with me. I pushed him so far away from me that I know he's not going to come back," John said miserably.

"Well, I don't think you know your boy all that well then, Johnny. Sam ain't gonna do that. He's the forgiving type. He loves you and he may be pissed, he may be hurt, but he ain't gonna leave you," Bobby replied gruffly.

"I don't know. I went too far this time, Bobby. I told him if he walked out the door to never come back. I told him that he would be dead to me. What kind of a father says that to his son?" John dropped his head again and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Oh, Johnny…he doesn't believe that…"

"No? I think he does," John said woefully.

"No way. He knows you were just angry…"

"He woke up for a short period of time and when Dr. Rusho asked him who he should call, Sam told him he was alone…that there was nobody to call," John said as he turned his head and looked up at his friend.

"Well, then I guess you'll just have change his mind about that now won't you," Bobby said, his heart aching at the fear and loneliness Sam must have been feeling.

John gave a humorless chuckle and nodded his head. "Yeah, guess I will," he said, his head jerking around as an unfamiliar voice called his name.

X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X

John, Dean and Bobby all came together in the middle of the quiet waiting room and waited anxiously for the doctor to speak. The man looked tired, like he'd been awake for way too many hours, but when he looked up from the clipboard he held, he smiled warmly which erased most of the weariness from his face.

"Mr. Wade?" the doctor queried, his eyes moving between John and Bobby as he waited for a response.

John took a small step forward and gave a quick nod in the doctor's direction. "I'm John Wade," he said as he offered his hand to the doctor.

The man took his hand and shook it. "I'm Dr. Davis. I performed your son's surgery," he said softly.

"How is he? Is he going to be okay?" Dean broke in as he stepped up next to his father, his green eyes staring pleadingly at the doctor.

"Dr. Davis, this is my eldest son, Dean," John said as he acknowledged the young man beside him.

Dr. Davis shook Dean's hand then returned his attention to John. "Sam is doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances. If his condition had been caught early enough, the hole in his heart would have been much more easily repaired by threading a scope up through a vein in his leg then into his heart, but because he is now an adult and has suffered a heart attack, a much more invasive surgery was required. We had to open him up to repair the hole and check for how much damage was done by the heart attack," the doctor said.

"How much was done?" Bobby queried from John's other side.

"This is Bobby, Sam's uncle," John said when he saw the doctor hesitate.

"Nice to meet you. In answer to your question, there wasn't as much damage as I expected, so that's good news," Dr. Davis said.

"So, is my son going to be okay?" John asked warily.

"I expect him to recover nicely. He'll be on medication for quite awhile, possibly for life. He'll need to strengthen his heart muscles due to the fact that the strain of all the years with that hole weakened it considerably. I'm actually surprised he hasn't had more trouble before this incident," Dr. Davis replied.

"So, he's gonna be okay?" Dean asked hopefully.

Dr. Davis turned to Dean and smiled. "He's young and strong, so yes, I'd say he's going to be fine," the doctor answered.

"When can we see him?" John asked, his voice filled with relief.

"Dr. Rusho is with him right now in the recovery area. He'll be there for a few hours then once he's stable enough, he'll be moved to the ICU. I'm going to waive time restraints so you can sit with him for as long as you like. I'd suggest you go find a motel room and get some rest. Sam will be pretty out of it for quite a few hours even after he's moved to the ICU so…"

"I'm not leaving the hospital. Sammy needs me to be here when he wakes up," Dean interrupted as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"You need rest and food," Dr. Davis said.

"I'll eat from the vending machine and sleep in a chair in his room," Dean said defiantly. "I'm not leaving my brother to be alone for any longer than I have to. He's already been alone for long enough."

"Very well. I'll see about having a sleeping chair brought into his room," the doctor said, realizing he'd have a real fight on his hands if he tried to get the young man to leave his brother.

"We'll both be staying in his room," John said evenly, his dark eyes staring tiredly at the doctor.

Dr. Davis nodded and took a step back. "If you'll follow me I'll lead you to the ICU waiting area. There's some comfortable couches in there you can lay out on until the nurse comes to fetch you. I'd suggest you use that time to get some sleep," he said before turning and walking toward the hall past the reception desk.

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_Later that day_

John and Dean sat at either side of Sam's hospital bed, their eyes fixed on the unconscious boy's face. To say that Sam was pale would be a huge understatement. His face was nearly as white as the pillowcase beneath his head, his dark hair standing out in stark contrast to the colorless flesh. Dean held one limp hand in his, the young man ever careful of the IV's that penetrated the delicate skin on the back of the hand. The intubation tube that had been inserted down Sam's throat for the surgery had thankfully been removed before father and son had been allowed in the room, an oxygen mask taking its place. They had been told that as long as Sam's oxygen levels remained satisfactory, he wouldn't need the breathing tube, but that could change if his condition began to deteriorate. Both men silently prayed that their youngest would not have to suffer that uncomfortable intrusion again. It was bad enough that he'd had a catheter inserted, both men knowing Sam would be mortified once he was told of that little fact when he awoke.

John reached his fingers toward Sam's face, but pulled them back before touching the cool skin. He glanced up and caught Dean's green eyes staring at him, one eyebrow raised. Though Dean was still extremely upset with his father, he did understand that Sam needed them both right now. "You can touch him, Dad," Dean whispered as he returned his gaze to Sam's face.

"I…I'm afraid to," John said in reply, his voice as low as Dean's.

"Why? He's not gonna break," Dean said in reply.

"I don't want to hurt him anymore than I already have. If…if I touch him, he may realize it's me and it could deter his recovery," John said sadly.

"Dad…that's just crazy. If he knows you're here, it'll let him know that you care about him. He needs to know that we're both here for him…that he's not alone," Dean said, his eyes once again meeting John's.

John watched Dean for a moment then slowly nodded. He turned his gaze to Sam and reached out for the second time, this time allowing his fingers to make contact with Sam's face. He tenderly brushed his fingers over the smooth skin and smiled as his gaze fell upon the long, dark lashes that fanned over his baby's cheeks. Sam looked all of five years old, not the teenager that he truly was. With him being so deeply asleep, all stress lines and such disappeared from his face, leaving him looking like the innocent little boy of not so long ago. John swallowed against the emotions rising in him, the man not wanting his eldest son to see him cry. That could wait until he was alone. His boys needed him to be strong right now and breaking down into a puddle of blubbering muck was not the way to convey that strength.

John's eyes trailed to his son's exposed chest, his stomach lurching at the white gauze that covered most of it. There was a tube protruding from underneath the dressing that John assumed was draining any unwanted fluids from the incision site. The man shuddered as thoughts of his baby's chest being cut open assaulted his exhausted mind. He knew enough of the procedure to get a good picture in his head. The tender flesh being cut down to his belly, the sternum being cracked in two and a rib spreader pushing the two sides of Sam's ribcage apart to reveal the vital organs beneath. Before John could stop it, an errant tear made its way down his cheek, but he was too far into his mind to bother brushing it away. He'd done this to his son. He'd ignored concerns from past doctor's visits, stupidly assuming that something as harmless sounding as a heart murmur couldn't be anything serious. There was nothing wrong with his son's heart, at least that's what he'd convinced himself of, and now, Sam was paying the price for his father's negligence.

"God, Sammy…I'm so sorry," John whispered as his fingers moved up to brush gently through Sam's tangled hair. "I've failed you so completely."

Dean glanced across the bed when he heard his father's voice. The man looked absolutely miserable and sounded even worse. John was of course blaming himself for what had happened and this time, Dean found himself agreeing wholeheartedly. There was no way John didn't know that Sam had a heart murmur. With all of the ER and doctor's visits Sam had been to over his young life, there was no way Dean could see that his father hadn't been told. When the time was right, Dean was going to find out just how much his father had known and then he was going to let the man have it. He loved and respected his father and would do anything for him, but he would not let this go if something could have prevented Sam's heart attack from happening. The rule was, Sam came first, no matter what. That's what had been ingrained into Dean's head by his father since he was a child, yet John had broken that number one rule by neglecting to get Sam's condition taken care of before it became a life threatening situation. Dean cleared his throat and waited until John's weary eyes glanced up at him.

"Dad…when things settle down, we're gonna have a long talk," Dean said before turning his attention back to his brother, thus cutting off any reply his father may have had.

John dropped his eyes and nodded. Dean knew. He knew what a failure his father was. He knew that Sam should have never gotten to this point. There was no way around it and John knew he deserved no better than to be kicked to the curb by his boys. He prayed that wouldn't happen, that he'd be forgiven and allowed to remain in their lives, but he couldn't fault them if they left him behind. He was just about to speak, to try and explain himself to Dean when a soft moan sounded from his youngest son. He jerked his eyes up to Sam's face as he jumped up from his chair and watched as Sam's head rolled from side to side on his pillow, the boy's eyelids fluttering as he began to wake. Dean had also stood and was leaning over the bed, Sam's hand still held firmly, yet gently in his own.

"Sammy…come on, kid…wake up for us," Dean urged as he watched his brother's face intently. "We're here and you're fine…just…just wake up."

Finally, Sam's eyes fluttered open and stared blankly up into his brother's face. Sam swallowed deeply and winced at the obvious pain in his throat. Dean reached out and placed his free hand on Sam's cheek then leaned over so his face was no more than six inches from Sam's. He smiled as recognition finally settled into the tired eyes of his brother, his heart soaring when Sam leaned into his touch.

"I knew you'd come back to us, Sammy…I knew you would," Dean whispered as he stared into the soft, dewy eyes that stared back at him.

John watched the exchange with a mixture of emotions. He wanted so much to draw Sam's attention to himself, but didn't want to break the bond between the brothers. Finally, unable to stand the separation any longer, he reached down with a shaky hand and gently grasped Sam's arm. Sam slowly rolled his head toward John, his eyes widening when he recognized who had touched him. "D'd?" he whispered before his eyes grew heavy and closed, the boy falling once again into deep sleep before his father even had a chance to reply.

**Well, that's it for now. I hope the reunion was satisfactory? Please let me know. I'll respond if time permits me to. Love you all so much!**

**Cindy**


	6. Chapter 6

**Once again...thank you all for the wonderful response to this story. I'm gaining readers and reviewers and it's awesome! Thanks for the terrific reviews...I know I'm slacking in responding...I just haven't got much time with everything going on. I truly appreciate each and every comment left for me. Now, I'll let you get onto chapter 6.**

**Cindy**

_Nebraska Heart Institute and Hospital - June 16, 2001- late afternoon_

Sam had awakened several times throughout the day, but had still been too disoriented and confused to do much more than glance at his father and brother before the pull of the drugs he was being fed through his IV's plunged him back into the unconscious state he'd been kept in since his surgery. Dean was desperate to speak with his brother and had taken each opportunity given to him to let Sam know that he was there for him, but had only been rewarded with whispers too soft to understand through the oxygen mask Sam wore. The way Sam would lean into his touches though told Dean all he needed to know. Sam didn't hate him and wanted him there.

Dean glanced over his brother to where his father sat on the opposite side of the bed and noted the drawn, pale face as the man watched Sam sleep. John, sensing eyes upon him, cast his gaze to his eldest son and gave him a small, tired smile. Dean, despite the anger he still held for his father at the moment, smiled back. Both men knew there would be fireworks coming, but now was neither the time nor the place. There was only one thing that mattered at the moment and that was Sam and both men were united on that front. John made like he was going to speak, but Dean lowered his eyes back to his brother, the young man not wanting to talk for fear of what he might say. John sighed and lowered his eyes to rest upon the pale hand he held in his. He rubbed his thumb tenderly over the back of Sam's hand and wished he could change everything that led his family to this moment. He wished he could take back the hateful words he'd thrown at his baby that terrible night not so long ago.

A soft moan from his youngest son drew John from his thoughts and he leapt up from his chair, hoping this time Sam would wake up coherent enough to talk to them. Dean had already made it to his feet and was leaning over his brother by the time John was standing, the intense scrutiny his eldest gave his youngest drawing a warm smile from him.

"Sammy…kiddo, wake up for me. I'm right here…Dad's here. You're not alone anymore," Dean coaxed, both his hands enveloping one of Sam's as he waited for his brother's hazel eyes to blink open.

It took several moments, but finally, tired eyes gazed up into the expectant face of the eldest Winchester sibling, those eyes blinking lazily as Sam attempted to clear his blurred vision.

"D'n?" Sam's soft voice queried, Dean's face brightening at finally being able to hear his baby brother.

"The one and only," Dean replied with a grin.

"Wh…wha' hap'nd?" Sam slurred sleepily as he continued to gaze at his brother.

"Uh…" Dean started, his gaze shifting from his brother to his father nervously.

John reached down and gently cupped Sam's cheek then began to roll his head toward him. "Sammy…" he started, but halted when Sam flinched away from his touch. John took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm sorry, kiddo…I never meant to hurt you," he whispered as he once again touched Sam's face, his heart leaping when Sam didn't pull away this time.

"D'd?"

"I need you to not get upset, Sam. You…you had a heart attack. You had to have surgery, but you're going to be fine now," John said, his heart breaking as he saw the disbelief and fear wash over his baby's face.

"No…I…" Sam stammered, his hazel eyes flitting between his father and brother before coming to rest on John's face.

"Sam…this is what I was talking about. This is why I didn't want you to leave. I…"

"Dad! Stop it!" Dean cried as he gently squeezed Sam's hand when the teen drew back from his father, his eyes tearing up at what he perceived as a reprimand.

"Dean…if he…"

"Outside, right now, Dad!" Dean hissed before turning his green eyes upon his upset brother. "Sammy…Dad and I are going to step out for just a second. We'll be right outside the door. You'll be able to see us the whole time, okay?" he said tenderly, smiling when Sam nodded lightly.

Dean gently lay Sam's hand down atop the blanket then motioned for his father to follow him. John glanced down at Sam, but sighed sadly when the boy turned his eyes away. He followed his eldest son and eased the glass door shut behind him. He had no sooner gotten the door shut before Dean tore into him.

"What the hell was that! You're blaming Sam for having a heart attack? Are you on drugs!" Dean cried angrily, his green eyes intense as they bore into John.

"Dean, don't speak to me that way. We both know that if Sam had never gotten it in his head to go to college, the fight never would have happened and he never would have left. He…"

"And you never would have slammed him against the wall so hard you left a huge bruise on him!"Dean spat furiously. "This isn't Sammy's fault! This is your fault! You knew he had something wrong with his heart and you did nothing!"

"Dean…I…"

"Don't lie, Dad. I know you knew. How couldn't you know? If it wasn't the stress from your fight, then it would be some hunt down the line. It was only a matter of time before this happened, Dad, so don't you f***ing blame Sam's leaving for this! This is all on you and you know it!" Dean practically screamed into John's face, drawing the attention of a few of the nurses nearby.

John glanced at the curious stares and waved the nurses off before turning his attention back to his angry son. He dropped his eyes to the floor in shame before lifting them once more to his son's face. "You're right. I was told years ago that Sammy had a murmur and that I needed to get it checked out, but I just didn't understand what all the fuss was about. A murmur…sounds so…benign. And Sam seemed fine…healthy, rambunctious. I thought the doctors were crazy. Finally, I forgot all about it," John said guiltily.

"Do you really care that little about him that you would just brush off what the doctors told you?" Dean queried wearily, his green eyes searching his father's face for any sign that he was wrong.

"That's not fair, Dean! You know I love Sam. I'd die for him. How could you think that?" John cried indignantly.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's the whole 'Sammy's got a heart murmur and the doctors think he could have something wrong with his heart, but I'm just gonna blow it off' crap!" Dean spat furiously.

"Dean, I truly thought they were making it out to be more than it was. I wasn't purposely ignoring Sam's health. I just didn't think it was that big of deal," John said softly.

"Oh, that's right. The great John Winchester knows everything and the doctors don't know squat! He was a little kid, Dad! You don't ignore the doctors when they tell you something could be seriously wrong. Not if you give a sh*t!" Dean hissed, his gaze shifting to look through the glass door at his baby brother.

"Dean, watch your mouth. I…"

"You'll what? Hit me? Slam me into a wall? You're responsible for this, Dad. You failed Sammy and we nearly lost him because of it. You'd better start thinking long and hard on how you're gonna make this up to him, because if you don't…you'll lose us both," Dean said evenly before turning his back on his shocked father and entering Sam's room.

John stared through the glass door and watched as Dean hurried to Sam's bedside, the young man immediately taking Sam's hand into his. John brushed his hand through his hair and played the argument over and over in his mind. Dean was right, of course. This whole nightmare was John's fault, but once again, as soon as Sam was coherent enough to talk to, John had tried to lay the blame on him. John shook his head, disgusted with himself.

"What a piece of work you are, Winchester," John whispered to himself as he reached for the door and slowly opened it.

John eased into the room and walked reluctantly up to Sam's bed. Dean glanced up at him, but immediately returned his attention to his brother. John cleared his throat to get Dean's attention again, waiting until Dean was looking up at him before he spoke.

"Dean…I'd like to speak with Sam alone if I could," John said softly, intentionally keeping his voice low and calm so as not to alarm Sam in any way.

Dean tightened his grip on Sam's hand and shook his head. "No, I don't think that's a good idea," he snapped in reply.

"I'm not…"

"No, Dad. I'm not leaving you alone with him so you can upset him again. If you need to say something, you can say it in front of me," Dean hissed.

"'s 'kay, D'n," Sam said tiredly, his sad hazel eyes gazing up at his brother in all their puppy dog glory, the exhaustion and pain medications amplifying the effects to monumental heights.

"Sammy, I don't want to leave you alone…"

"Not 'lone. D'ds here," Sam said, a faint smile playing over his lips, barely visible through the oxygen mask. John's heart nearly stopped when he heard the hushed words. At least Sam still considered him his father. At least he trusted him enough to be left alone with him. It said a lot about Sam's character and made the elder Winchester feel even smaller than he already had been feeling.

Dean smiled warmly down at his brother before lifting his eyes to his father's face. "Don't upset him," he warned before returning his gaze to his brother. "You sure, kiddo?" he asked softly.

Sam nodded and gave Dean's hand a weak squeeze. "Okay. Ten minutes," Dean said as he laid Sam's hand down next to his side and looked up at his father.

John nodded and watched as Dean left the room. He wasn't surprised when Dean stopped just outside the door and turned to look through the glass. He knew his son wouldn't be going anywhere. He'd be outside the door waiting to rush in if he felt his brother needed rescuing. John shuddered at the thought that his eldest would think Sam may need to be rescued from him. Of course, with the latest developments, why wouldn't he? John turned his attention to his youngest and found the boy's soft eyes gazing nervously up at him. He lowered the railing on the bed and carefully sat down on the mattress next to him. He took Sam's hand and gripped it gently.

"Sam…I'm sorry. I know this isn't your fault. I just…I was so terrified when we got the call and then to see you lying in this bed like this. I wanted to blame someone…anyone other than who the blame lies with," John said softly.

Sam swallowed and blinked his eyes sluggishly. "'Not y'r f'lt," he replied breathlessly.

"Yes it is. I won't get into that right now, but it is my fault…"

"D'd…"

"Sammy…what I said at the house. I didn't mean it…you know that, right? I was angry and scared. You striking out on your own without your brother and I to protect you just doesn't sit well with me and well…you and Dean are all I have left. I can't lose you…I love you too much," John said.

John smiled as Sam's wide hazel eyes blinked up at him. He knew Sam was fighting valiantly to stay awake, but the boy was losing the battle and John was not about to keep his baby from the rest he so desperately needed. He reached out and cupped Sam's face, his thumb tenderly caressing his cheekbone just alongside the oxygen mask.

"Sleep, kiddo. Dean and I will be right here. We'll talk more later," John instructed softly, the man smiling warmly as Sam's eyes immediately drifted shut, his hand falling limp in John's grasp.

John turned to the door and as expected, Dean stood peering in, his arms crossed in front of his body as he intently watched the exchange between his father and baby brother. John shook his head and motioned for Dean to come in. Dean was beside Sam's bed in an instant, his eyes immediately focusing on his brother's face. He looked up at John before looking back to find the chair he'd been using ever since they'd been allowed in Sam's room. He snaked the chair with his foot and pulled it up to the bed then planted himself in the seat. He glanced at the monitors that stood at the head of the bed before his gaze once more settled on Sam's face.

"We should get something to eat, Dean. Sam's gonna be out for awhile and…"

"Not leaving him alone. You can go eat if you like, but I'm staying here," Dean interrupted with nary a glance at his father.

John sighed as he stood up from the bed and glanced down at his stubborn son. "You've got to eat. You're not gonna do Sammy any good if you collapse," he said sternly.

"Then bring me something. I'm not going anywhere…not 'til Sam can come with me," Dean replied.

John shook his head, expecting no less from his son. "Fine, but as soon as I get back, you eat then you sleep…"

"Gotta stay awake for Sammy…"

"No, you gotta eat and sleep. I'm not giving you an option here, Dean," John instructed.

"If he wakes up…"

"I'll be here watching him. You can sleep in the chair, but you will sleep. I'll wake you if he wakes up. Now…I'm gonna go grab us something from the cafeteria. I'll be right back," John said as he moved toward the door.

Dean glared after his father, but he knew the man was right. He hadn't been this tired in ages and he wouldn't do Sam any good if he wasn't one hundred percent. He'd do as his father said, but not because John ordered it. He'd do it because Sam needed him to. He waited until the door closed behind John before he turned his attention back onto his sleeping brother.

"The old man is getting bossier in his old age, Sammy. Don't you worry…I'm not going anywhere. Gonna be right here every time you wake up, little brother. There's no place I'd rather be, kiddo, than right here by your side."

**So, Dean let John have it. It wasn't how he had wanted to confront his dad, but then when John started leaning on Sam...that was it. I hope you liked it and will let me know. Two chapters left! Take care all.**

**Cindy**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you all for the wonderful reviews...again. They are so inspiring for me. Its been a tough week and today we were told that my grandma's chances of recovering and coming home are very slim. She's suffering so much, but its hard to let go. Anyway, I needed to get my mind on other things for a bit so I decided to post the next chapter. I hope it doesn't disappoint. Take care all.**

_Three weeks later – Nebraska Heart Institute and Hospital_

Sam sat in his bed, the head raised so he was almost completely upright. The room was empty except for him, his father and brother having gone to ready the hotel room Bobby had rented for them before he left for home the day before. The key word here was hotel. Not some seedy motel like Sam was used to, but a real honest to goodness hotel with inside hallways and sheets that didn't smell like they'd spent a month in a cigarette factory. He'd been told of the soft towels and 150 channels of cable by an extremely excited brother, whom Sam had insisted spend the previous night in the hotel instead of camping out in the torturous hospital chair he'd spent almost the past month in. Dean had obliged, but only after Sam had pulled out all the stops and turned in his best puppy dog eyes performance to date. He could've won an Oscar with that performance.

John had stayed with Sam until the boy had fallen into a deep sleep then had joined Dean at the hotel, only to be back at the hospital early the next morning, eldest son in tow. They had waited until Sam was given a thorough examination and then the green light to be discharged before they left again around lunchtime to prepare the room. Sam had a few weeks of physical therapy at the hospital before he could travel anywhere of significant mileage, and the two elder Winchesters were damned sure not going to have him recuperating in a crap hole like they were used to. He deserved better, plus his immunity system had taken a huge hit with his heart attack and a filthy motel room with God only knew what covering every surface was not an environment adequate enough for Sam's needs.

Sam stared at his reflection in a mirror he had insisted his nurse bring him right after his family left. He had refused to look into the mirror every time he'd used the bathroom, but now he needed to know, needed to see what his ordeal had done to him. He studied the gaunt face and dark circles that lay under his tired eyes. He knew he'd lost weight, a lot of it in fact, but the sight that met him when he looked into the mirror still shocked him. His father and brother promised that once he was free of the hospital, they would be fattening him right up, but truth be told, Sam didn't know if he'd ever have an appetite again. The thought of what lay ahead made it difficult to even think about eating. Once he told his family that he'd still be going to college, he was sure they'd leave him again. He was sure he'd be disowned again.

Slowly, Sam reached up and pulled the hospital gown he wore down then lowered the mirror so he could look at his chest. He pulled at the bandage that still covered his incision so he could get a good look then swallowed deeply when the deep red, ugly looking scar stared back at him. This was the evidence of his weakness. This was the reminder that he was never going to be a true Winchester. True Winchesters don't have heart attacks at eighteen. True Winchesters fight and fight until their bodies give out, but their hearts always remain strong. Sam's heart was weak…diseased since the day he was born and he gave a humorless chuckle when he thought about the irony of that. His father and brother had fought their entire lives to protect him from all of the monsters of the world when all along his biggest enemy had been himself. The biggest threat to his life lay within his chest, just waiting for its chance to beat him down another hundred pegs.

Sam lowered the mirror to his lap and dropped his chin to his chest. He couldn't stop the tears as they began to fill his eyes, nor could he stop them when they broke over his lids to trail down his cheeks. He was so lost in his grief and self loathing that he didn't hear when the door to his room opened and his father and brother stepped in, the two elder Winchesters immediately rushing to Sam's bedside when they saw his distress.

"Awww, Sammy…the scar won't be that bad in a few months," Dean said when he realized what must have happened. He reached down and took the mirror then placed it on the bedside table while John pressed the bandage back over Sam's incision and pulled his gown back up.

Slowly, Sam raised his head and glanced at his family only to drop his eyes to his lap. If they did see him as weak, they hid it well. Winchesters were masters of hiding their true feelings so Sam really had no idea what they thought of him at the moment. Yes, they were doting all over him like there was no tomorrow and both had even mentioned the "L" word once or twice. Now, normally Sam would have been happy to hear those words, him being the more sensitive, touchy feely member of the family, but in the current situation, it seemed to Sam that the words were said more out of desperation than anything else. His family thought he was so fragile that they had to say the words that normally were never uttered between them, except for the occasional drunken confession, and that was usually followed by loud vomiting and pounding headaches.

"Sam…look at me, son," John said sternly, yet gently. He waited until Sam's eyes were gazing nervously at him before he continued. "Look, I know this is hard, but you have a family who loves you and…"

"Stop…don't say it again. Please," Sam interrupted, his pleading hazel eyes imploring his father to stop.

"Don't say what, Sammy? That we love you?" Dean interjected, his narrowed green eyes reflecting his confusion.

"Yes…don't say it," Sam replied, his gaze once more dropping to his lap.

"Why? We do love you, kiddo. I don't understand," John said softly as he reached out to gently grasp Sam's arm.

"Yeah, but you never say it," Sam whispered. "The only reason you both keep saying it now is because you think I'm weak…that I'm so fragile I might break," he continued, his voice rising slightly.

"What? No…that's not true, Sam," John said firmly, his hand tightening around his youngest son's arm.

Sam looked up and smiled weakly. "Yes it is, Dad. I've seen the way you both look at me when you think I can't see you. I can just imagine what you're both thinking. Weak…a burden…a liability," he said.

"Okay, hold on right there, Sam," Dean spat, though it was more out of exasperation than anger. "You, my little brother, are wrong. Couldn't be further from the truth, in fact," he continued more calmly.

John glanced at his eldest before returning his attention back to Sam. "Sam, we do not think you're weak, or a burden, or a liability. You had a heart attack and…"

"Yeah…don't remind me. Winchesters don't have heart attacks. They're strong…invincible. Well, except for me. I'm not a Winchester…I'm a…"

"Dammit, Sam!" John snapped, having heard enough from his son. "Just stop! You had a heart attack and you fought so hard. When the doctors didn't know if you'd make it or not, you proved to them just how tough you are. You're the strongest one out of all of us…"

"No…that's not true. I'm the screw up…you've said it a hundred times, Dad."

"Yeah, well…I never should have said it even one time. But, Sam…even after how hard I've been on you, the crap I've dumped on you…you still kept coming back, trying to do better, taking my sh*t, fighting me tooth and nail the whole way. Pisses me off to no end, but it shows how tough you are too."

Sam stared at his father, not sure what to think of his words. He cast his gaze toward his brother when Dean clapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Look, Sammy…Dad's right. You stand up for yourself when you think you're right and you admit when you're not. I never do that. And the whole 'love' thing? Yeah, we don't say it, but maybe that's wrong. We almost lost you. I don't think I could have lived with myself knowing you died without having heard me say it. We're not saying it because we think you're weak…we're saying it because it's true," he said softly.

Sam smiled sadly at his brother then his father before moving his gaze to the far wall beyond the foot of his bed. "Yeah, well you may not think so for much longer," he said softly.

John cocked his head slightly and moved to sit on the edge of Sam's bed. Sam looked at him, misery painted all over his pale, drawn face. "Sam, what do you mean by that?" he asked.

Sam took a deep breath, the boy reaching up to press a hand against his chest when pained spiked through the incision site.

"Sammy? You okay?" Dean asked as he leaned in, his eyes filled with concern.

Sam nodded and smiled over at him. "I'm fine, Dean…just, don't know how to say this. I mean, I know how you're both gonna react," he answered softly.

"Just say it, kiddo," John said, the man smiling when Sam returned his gaze.

Sam nodded as he bit nervously at his bottom lip. Finally, he spoke. "I…I'm going to still go to college, Dad. If it's not too late, that is. I know you don't want me to and I know you won't want anything more to do with me, but I…" Sam rambled before his words were cut off by a squeeze to his arm.

"Sam…take a breath. Calm down," John instructed, his hand rubbing up and down Sam's arm. "We kind of figured you'd still be going. Stubborn Winchester to the end," he continued with a somewhat sad, frightened chuckle.

"Wh-what? You…I…what?" Sam stammered breathlessly.

"Sam…geez, take a break from talking for a minute will ya?" Dean said.

"But, I don't understand. I thought you'd be mad," Sam finally said, once he caught his breath.

"Yeah, well…we aren't happy about it. Dad fought me when I first suggested it, but Sammy…it's your decision. As much as we hate the idea of you being out there on your own, we realize that we can't treat you like a baby forever," Dean said, his voice shaking at the very thought of being separated from his brother.

"Really?" Sam asked sheepishly, his wide, hazel eyes moving from brother to father.

John nodded and sighed. "Yes, Sammy. Really. Look, I still think you'd be better off with us…safer. But, like Dean said, it's your decision. I won't stand in your way this time…but, I don't have to like it," he said.

Sam flashed a small smile, one that for the first time in a very long time actually reached his eyes. "I'll be fine you guys. I can meet up with you during breaks and be with you the entire summer," he said excitedly.

"Yeah…it'll be okay…" Dean started before his words trailed off and he dropped his eyes to his hands.

"Dean…I actually don't even know if I can still go. I was supposed to register for classes and now they may all be full so…"

"I called them, Sam. You still have time to register. Classes don't start until September," John said.

"What? You called them?" Sam asked with bewilderment, the boy not quite believing what he was hearing.

"Yes, Sammy…I called them. Told ya, not going to stand in your way," John replied.

Sam's eyes filled and he lifted a hand to brush at them before any tears could fall. "Thanks, Dad," he said, his voice barely over a whisper.

"You're welcome, Sammy," John said as he stood from the edge of the bed.

"Okay…chick flick moment over? Can we get the kid out of this god forsaken place now?" Dean suddenly said, though his eyes did appear a bit misty to his family.

John gave a short chuckle and turned toward the door. "Alright, macho man…you help your brother get dressed and I'll go talk to his doctor about his walking papers," he instructed before leaving the room.

Dean shook his head as he watched his father leave. He turned back to his brother and smiled. "He's right you know," he said as he reached down for the bag he had carried into the room and dropped as he'd reached Sam's bedside.

Sam looked up at him and cocked his head. "About what?"

"I am macho. And sexy as hell," Dean answered in a matter of fact tone that had Sam rolling his eyes.

"And humble…don't forget humble," Sam said with a smile.

"Oh yeah…and above all…humble," Dean replied. He placed the clothes he'd pulled from the bag onto the chair next to Sam's bed then turned his attention to his brother. "Let's get this very attractive gown off of you…unless you want to keep it?"

"No…that's okay. They can keep it," Sam answered as he moved to swing his legs over the edge of the bed, the teen wincing despite his efforts not to.

"Here, let me help you, Sammy," Dean said as he immediately moved into action.

"I…I can do it, Dean," Sam said, though the fine sheen of sweat on his face after just that amount of exertion said otherwise.

"It's no big deal, Sam…and it doesn't mean you're weak 'cause you need help right now. You've been through hell. I'd be doing a lot worse than you, I can tell you that," Dean said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"You would never be in this position, Dean," Sam mumbled with shame.

Dean shook his head and sat down on the bed beside his brother. "Sammy…don't. You can't blame yourself for having been born with a hole in your heart. It doesn't make you weak…it's just one of those things. It could have just as easily been me," he said softly as he brushed the hair from Sam's eyes and smiled when Sam automatically leaned into his touch.

"Dean, if I'm so strong, like you and Dad say, then why does all of this crap always happen to me? I mean, I would rather it happen to me than to you guys, but I just want to know why it has to happen in the first place," Sam said, his voice tinged with sadness.

Dean looked at his brother and felt his heart break for the kid. He had no answers for that. He'd often asked himself the same thing. Why did his little brother always have to be the one that the bad stuff happened to? Ever since he'd started joining in on hunts, it was like he had a big old target painted on him. And if only one of them was going to catch the latest thing going around, it was Sam, every single time. It wasn't fair and Dean had found himself wishing on numerous occasions that it could be him and not his brother. He knew his father felt the same way, the two of them even having a conversation about it at one point. That's why their overprotectiveness had grown along with Sam, rather than diminishing when he'd grown taller and stronger and better able to take care of himself. It was nearly impossible to take care of yourself when the universe seemed out to get you. Dean sighed and gently pulled his brother to him, smiling when Sam came willingly and nestled himself against Dean's chest.

"Sammy…I don't know. I wish I did, 'cause I'd beat the crap out of whoever decided to put all of this sh*t on you. It scares Dad and I to death if you want to know the truth," Dean said as he rested his chin on the top of Sam's head.

"That's why Dad didn't want me to go, huh?" Sam muffled from inside his brother's embrace.

"Yeah. Can't watch your back if you're not with us," Dean answered softly.

"It's just college, Dean. What could happen? Well, now that this has happened, what else could happen?" Sam asked as he eased himself out of his brother's arms.

"Nothing, Sammy. Nothing else is going to happen," Dean answered, hoping he was telling the truth. "Now come on…we need to get you dressed."

"Okay," Sam said with a small smile. He allowed Dean to help him to the edge of his bed then, with deep embarrassment, helped as much as he could while his big brother pulled first his boxers, then the soft sweatpants, purchased just recently to accommodate Sam's thinner body, up his legs. Next came a worn tee shirt that now hung on Sam's body, followed by a pullover sweatshirt.

Finally, after some cursing, an exhausted Sam was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for John to return. Dean had gone to the bathroom to get a cool glass of water for Sam, knowing that the effort to get dressed had drained the kid more than he was letting on. Dean was just coming out of the bathroom when the door opened and John came in pushing a wheelchair. John looked from Dean to Sam and instantly became worried at the sweat that shone on his youngest son's face.

"Everything okay in here?" he asked cautiously.

"'m fine, Dad. Just tired," Sam said quietly as he eyed his father wearily.

John lifted an eyebrow then turned to Dean. "Just had a little trouble getting gangly boy dressed, Dad. He just needs some water and rest. He'll be fine," Dean answered as he held the glass out for Sam, who took it with shaking hands and carefully lifted it to his lips. "You got his prescription? He may need a pain pill too," Dean continued.

"Uh…yeah. Here," John answered as he dug through a large bag and pulled out a prescription bottle. He tossed the bottle to Dean and waited for him to hand Sam a pill before pushing the wheelchair closer. He reached out and ruffled Sam's hair, his hand coming to rest at the nape of the boy's neck.

"Okay, Sammy. Let's get you out of here, shall we?" John asked after giving Sam's neck a gentle squeeze before letting to ready the chair for its precious cargo.

"Can't I just walk, Dad?" Sam asked softly.

"You can hardly hold your glass, kiddo. Besides, it's hospital rules," John answered.

"Since when do you follow the rules?" Sam asked, though he now had a small smile on his lips.

"Since I don't want to carry you out of here, Sam. Hop on," John answered.

Dean shook his head at the exchange then took the glass from Sam's hands and set it on the side table. Both he and John helped Sam up from the bed and eased him down into the chair. Once Sam was settled, John took the handles of the wheelchair and turned his boy around. He waited for Dean to open the door then pushed Sam out into the hallway. It was a silent trip through the hospital, no words being spoken until Dean had driven the Impala up to the curb where John waited with Sam.

"Okay, Sammy…up again," John said as he glanced down at his nearly asleep son.

"Huh…oh…'kay," Sam said sleepily.

John and Dean helped Sam out of the chair and into the backseat of the Impala before Dean climbed in beside him and pulled him to his side. Sam's head immediately lowered to rest on Dean's shoulder and he was sound asleep in seconds. Dean smiled up at his father as John eased the door shut, both men wincing at the loud creak the door made. Sam however, didn't even flinch, the boy dead to the world by this point. John pushed the wheelchair up to the edge of the building then hurried around the car and climbed in behind the steering wheel. He glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled as he watched Dean pull Sam closer to his side. He put the car in gear and eased away from the curb then drove through the parking lot and out onto the street, leaving the hated hospital to disappear into the horizon.

****

**One chapter left. Please let me know what you thought. Thanks.**

**Cindy**


	8. Chapter 8

**Well, the time has come. Final chapter. I appreciate all of the readers and reviewers so much. You've kept me going on this and now we're at the end. I hope you enjoy.**

**Cindy**

_Two weeks later_

Dean shoved the last bite of his bacon cheeseburger, with extra onions, into his mouth then licked at the gob of catsup that oozed down his chin, all the while watching his brother who sat across from him at the small hotel table. Sam had his chin resting in his hand, his eyes staring down at the soggy food in his go container, fork moving idly through the mush that he had turned his dinner into. He had been quiet since he had left the hospital, more quiet than usual. His father and brother were beginning to get concerned that he was sinking down into a deep depression and they tried everything they could to engage him in conversation as well as take him out of the room as often as his healing heart allowed, but still he remained quiet and sullen, barely eating as well as sleeping a great deal of the time. Dean glanced over at his father and met his worried gaze then turned back to his brother.

"Uh…hey, Sammy…I've heard that you get more out of your food if you actually eat it, so what'dya say you take a bite or two, okay?" Dean coaxed, his eyes once more glancing John's way to find his father watching his brother intently.

Sam raised his eyes to Dean and shrugged. "'m not really hungry," he mumbled before dropping his dull eyes once more.

"How can you not be hungry, Sam?" John queried as he set his fork down onto the table. "You've hardly eaten a thing since you left the hospital. If that doesn't change, you're gonna end up right back in there. Is that what you want?" he continued.

Sam slowly straightened and looked at his father. "No…I just don't feel like eating," he said in resigned reply.

"You gotta eat, kiddo. You're losing more weight than you can afford to lose," John stated, his dark eyes leaving Sam for a moment to glance at his eldest son before returning to his youngest.

Sam dropped his fork into his container and pushed back from the table. He looked first at his brother then at his father. "Why can't you just drop it? I eat…some…I go to the hospital every day and do my PT…I watch TV and go to the park. Everything you guys want me to do, I do. So I'm not eating all that much…so what!" he cried as he pushed to his feet, his body swaying ever so slightly before he was able to gain steady ground and make his way to his bed where he plopped down and dropped his face into his shaky hands.

Dean looked to his father before he stood and walked over to where Sam sat. He sat next to Sam and leaned over, his green eyes seeking out his brother's hazel ones. "Sammy…look at me. Come on, bro…look at me," he coaxed as he gently nudged Sam with his shoulder.

Finally, Sam pulled his face up from his hands and glanced over at his brother. "Dean…just…I'm sorry, okay?" he said softly.

"What's going on with you, Sammy? We thought once you got out of that hospital you'd come back around to yourself. And once you got yourself registered for your classes we thought you'd be bouncing off the walls. Now, all you want to do is sleep. Tell me what's wrong…please," Dean pleaded.

Sam sighed as he gazed at his brother. He knew he was causing his family to worry and he hated it, but he just couldn't bring himself out of his funk. He had so much going through his head that the only way to shut it off was to sleep. He had to force every bit e of food into his mouth and actually chewing and swallowing was a chore he just didn't have the energy for.

"I…I don't know, Dean. I'm trying…I am, but…but I…" Sam started, his voice trailing off as a lump formed in his throat and his eyes filled with tears.

Dean wrapped an arm around Sam's slumped shoulders and gently pulled him close. John couldn't stand it anymore and stood from the table then moved to the bed and dropped down onto his knees in front of his youngest son.

"Sam, we know you're trying. I can't even begin to imagine what you've gone through, what you're still going through, but I do know that me and Dean can help you, if you let us. Tell us what's going on and then let us help you," John said as he rested his hand on Sam's knee.

Sam looked up and gifted his father with a small, quivering smile. "I…I just don't know what to do, Dad…I feel so…lost, you know? I mean, I want to go to school, but then I don't and…"

"Wait, what do you mean you don't?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head lightly then brushed at a tear that managed to slip down his cheek. He glanced over to his brother and bit at his lower lip. "I'm scared, Dean. I…I'm scared for me, but I'm mostly scared for you and Dad and I think that maybe I should just call them and tell them I'm not coming. I…I don't know what to do," he finally cried, his chin dropping so that his hair covered his tear filled eyes.

John swallowed against the lump in his throat and reached out to take Sam's chin in his hand. He gently raised his son's face and smiled when Sam's woeful eyes met his. "Sammy…what are you afraid of? You'll be fine. You've already been put in touch with a cardiologist in Palo Alto…everything is set. You don't need to be afraid," he said softly.

"Why would you be afraid for Dad and me?" Dean pushed further as he gave his brother's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Sam glanced over at him and shrugged. "You guys worry so much about me…I'm just afraid that you'll get yourselves hurt or ki…." Sam cried, his voice cutting off before he could say the dreaded word. Finally, he continued in a whisper. "I couldn't live with it, Dean. It'd be my fault and I just couldn't live with it."

Dean pulled his brother closer and made sure Sam was looking at him before he began to speak. "Listen, Sam…yes, we do worry about you. But, we'd worry whether you were with us or not. That's just the way we are. We're not going to let ourselves get distracted on a hunt. If we did and something happened to us, we'd leave you alone and that just is not gonna happen. You need to stop worrying about that…you're making yourself sick and you need to stop," he said.

"Your brother's right, Sam," John said, smiling when Sam turned his eyes to him. "College is obviously something you've wanted…worked to achieve for a long time. Don't toss it away because of us. Look, I'd love for you to stay with us, but…but I want you to be happy too. I've overlooked your wants for far too long, cast them off as unimportant when they're not. I'm sorry for that, Sammy."

Sam smiled at his father, a sad, but genuine smile. "I…I don't know if I can do it, Dad. Now that it's really happening, I just don't know. I've never been apart from you guys. What if I get there and I fail? What if all of the other students hate me? I won't have anybody to turn to…to talk to. I don't think I can go…I…" he cried softly.

"Sam, listen to me," Dean started, waiting to continue until his brother was looking his way. "You aren't gonna fail. You're gonna take that school by storm. They won't know what hit 'em. And nobody is gonna hate you. They may be jealous…wonder why they even bother when they couldn't even begin to be as smart as you, but they won't hate you. You're gonna have so many friends, and you won't have to worry about up and leaving at a moments notice," he continued, his eyes moving over to meet the guilt ridden face of his father.

"But…"

"We'll only be a phone call away, Sam. If you need to talk, you call. If you need us there, you call. I've already made it known that I will only take hunts on the West coast or there abouts. We'll be able to be in Palo Alto within a day. We'll drop in whenever we're close. It's your choice, Sammy…but you need to base it on what you want and not on your worry for us," John said.

Sam gazed at his father then to his brother. He finally returned his eyes to John and nodded. "I really want to go, Dad…I'm just so scared," he softly said, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"It's always scary to leave home. You'll be fine. You're tough…you'll find your way," John said in reply.

Sam smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Dad…thanks, Dean," he said.

"Hey, not a problem, little brother, " Dean quipped, happy to see his brother smile again. He glanced over at the table and frowned. "We do have another problem though," he said with a serious look.

Sam furrowed his brow and looked at his brother. "What?" he asked nervously.

"Well, I refuse to have my little brother reflect badly upon me by going to college as a stick figure. All those coeds? Man, I envy you, Sammy, but you gotta get some meat on your bones. Girls don't go for skinny guys," Dean said with a grin.

"I'm not really…" Sam started, his words cut off by a loud grumble coming from his stomach. His face flushed a deep pink as he glanced sheepishly up at his family.

"Yeah…uh huh," Dean said as he stood and gently pulled his brother up with him. "Let's get you something to eat." Dean grinned at his father as the man rose to his feet, both men's eyes squarely on their youngest family member.

Sam placed his hand over his still grumbling stomach and smiled. "I guess I could eat a little," he said as he moved toward his chair and the cold slop he'd left there.

"Whoa, wait a second," Dean said as he grabbed Sam's arm.

"What? I thought you wanted me to eat," Sam said with confusion.

"Yeah, but not that," Dean replied as he guided Sam toward the door. "It's a nice night out. We can go to the diner. I'm starving!"

"But…you just ate a bacon cheeseburger…disgustingly so I might add," Sam said, his voice tinged with both confusion and amusement.

"Yeah, Sammy…ONE cheeseburger. Plus, Dad didn't get me any pie, so come on…let's go!" Dean cried as he pulled Sam toward the door.

Sam shook his head and glanced at John, smiling when John just shrugged his shoulders and grinned. The three left the hotel room, the youngest kept safely between the other two and finally it seemed as if everything may just be okay.

**EPILOGUE**

Sam stood on the sidewalk, his wide eyes sweeping over the large building before him. His duffel bag was swung over one shoulder and another larger bag sat at his feet. He glanced over his shoulder as his father and brother stepped up to him, their eyes also taking in the building that their youngest family member would be calling home for the next few years. Sam smiled nervously as he made eye contact with each man before dropping his gaze to the bag at his feet. He had so much he wanted to say, but the words escaped him now. He couldn't believe he was finally here, couldn't believe he would have to watch his family drive away and leave him behind. It was what he had wanted, but that didn't make it easy now that the time had finally come. The fears he'd held inside were still there, still strong, but he had promised his family that he would be strong. He had no intention of breaking that promise. He glanced to his right when he felt a firm, yet gentle hand grasp his arm.

"So, Sammy…you need help getting your stuff up to your room?" Dean asked with a small smirk, his snarky, outward demeanor not quite covering up just how twisted up his insides felt.

Sam smiled and gave his brother his patented eye roll. "Uh…no, Dean…I think I can handle my two bags just fine. Thanks anyway," he said softly.

"Uh…yeah…okay. Maybe Dad and I should check out your dorm room though, just to be sure…"

"It's fine, Dean. You guys already researched the entire campus. No red flags on hauntings or poltergeists. No demon signs or any other sign of paranormal or supernatural influences here," Sam said, the young man covering up just how thankful he was for his brother's protectiveness.

"Can't be too safe, Sammy. I got my EMF detector and…"

"Dean…your brother will be fine. Like he said, we've checked the entire place out. It's clean. Plus, I'm sure Sam will take all of the necessary precautions to keep any unwanted…uh…guests out. Right, Sammy?" John interjected with a serious glance at his youngest son.

"Yes, Dad. I'll salt all of the openings. I'll put up all the protections…discreetly. Now, you guys better get going. That banshee isn't gonna take a break and wait for you to come take her down," Sam said, though a part of him wanted his family to stay.

"Yeah…we better get on the road. Dean, say goodbye and let's hit it," John said as he took a step back from his sons.

Dean moved in front of Sam and looked up at his face…(and wasn't that just wrong on every level?). He reached out his hand and waited until Sam offered his in return before he firmly shook the hand. "You be safe, kid…I don't want to have to come save your ass," he said before shaking his head and pulling his brother into his arms. "I mean it, Sammy…anything at all, you call us," he whispered into Sam's ear as he gave his back a few strong pats.

"I will, Dean…don't worry," Sam said in reply as he was finally let loose by his obviously nervous brother.

Dean nodded and dropped his eyes to the ground. He stepped aside as John stepped up to Sam and watched as John immediately drew Sam into his arms. "I know I've never told you this, Sammy, but I'm so damned proud of you," he said as he held his youngest tight.

Sam pulled away and stared in shock at his father's face. The words he'd longed to hear, but never in a million years thought he ever would, had just been uttered and he had absolutely no idea how to respond. "I…I…th-thanks, Dad," he finally said, his eyes shining brightly.

John smiled as he stepped back. "You're gonna do great here, Sammy," he said, his voice wavering ever so slightly.

Sam smiled before glancing at his brother and giving him a nod. "So…uh…I better get up there before my roommate shows up and gets the best bed," he said softly.

"Yeah…uh…take care of yourself, Sammy," Dean replied as he backed toward the Impala, his eyes never leaving his brother.

"I will. You too," Sam said with a warm smile.

"We will. Bye, Sam. I love you," John said then turned to make his way around the Impala to the driver's side.

"Love you both," Sam said and watched as Dean smiled, his green eyes shining, before he climbed into the car.

Sam watched his family pull away from the curb and slowly drive down the street. He walked to the edge of the sidewalk so he could see them, only moving toward the dorm building when the Impala disappeared from sight. He gazed up at the building one more time then reached down for his other bag. He walked toward the entrance, pulled the door open and disappeared inside.

Dean glanced over at his father, noticing the deathgrip the man had on the steering wheel and the way he stared stoically ahead. This was killing John and Dean knew it. He knew it because it was killing him too. Never had Sam been left behind before, other than when he was little and it was absolutely necessary. Those times though, Sam had been left with Bobby or Pastor Jim, not with complete strangers who had no idea what was out there in the world. He was completely on his own and even the fact that they'd always stay as close to Palo Alto as they could didn't make either of the men feel any better. A lot could happen in the time it took them to get back to Sam, if a call for help ever came. John let out a shaky sigh and with one hand he beat furiously on the steering wheel.

"Dad?" Dean asked as he stared at his father with concern.

"I'm leaving my boy," John said softly, his eyes never leaving the street ahead of him. "My baby."

Dean could see the tears brimming in his father's eyes, but he didn't say a word about them. He swallowed deeply and blinked back his own tears, willing his heart to stop racing before he spoke. Finally, he found his voice.

"Dad…he'll be okay," he said shakily.

John glanced over at his eldest son and nodded once before returning his eyes to the road. "I know he will. It just doesn't feel right…leaving him behind like this," he said.

"Not behind, Dad. We're not leaving him behind. We're giving him that bit of normal that he's always wanted," Dean said in reply.

"Yeah…normal," John said as he guided the Impala through the city before getting onto the highway that would take them to their next hunt.

They drove in silence the rest of the way, both determined to finish the hunt as quickly as they could so they could turn around and get back to where they belonged. Back to where their hearts resided. Back to Sam, whether he knew they were there or not.

**THE END**

**So, that's it. Please let me know if you liked the ending, or even if you didn't. Love you all.**

**Cindy**


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